And the Audience Applauded
by AndImTheQueenOfSheba
Summary: COMPLETE - When you're caught up with being better than Jake Ryan for once, you tend to be a little inattentive. Maybe if I had noticed, she wouldn't be holding that fork like she was going to stab me with it, and that evil gleam in her eyes would be gone
1. Chapter One

**_Alright, I tried my hardest, but I COULD NOT remember Zach's last name…I'm pretty sure it started with a D…so I looked through the phonebook…and Dykstra sounded familiar…maybe cuz I have some neighbors named Dykstra…but I'm pretty sure that I used the last name of somebody I knew, so whatever, it doesn't matter…This chapter is completely different from the first time I did it, but I'm pretty sure it's got the same idea…I just couldn't remember the way it went before._**

**_Disclaimer: Zach belongs to me!! Ha ha that the first time I've ever been able to say that…lol…I know like five real Zachs…but I don't want them lol_**

* * *

Ok, I might as well warn you.

I'm not the brightest tack in the box…or however that saying goes. I just proved myself didn't I?

But you don't have to be Einstein to do what I do.

Jessica Simpson for example. I believe that she is actually a genius and is just acting dumb, because, hey, who likes a smart blonde? So when Jessica Simpson takes over the world, do not be surprised.

Anyways, I'm an actor. Yes like Jake Ryan, but don't you dare say his name around me! Jake Ryan, Zombie Slayer…er…I'm gonna call him Zombie Breath, ok? That way I don't have to think about him and get all angry.

Grrr...

So Zombie Breath has taken everything from me ever since I was two.

Here, I'll just make a list, because I don't like speeches, and lists have numbers.

Okay, so the things Zombie Breath has taken from me are as follows:

1. That diaper commercial, although I can actually thank him for that one**.** It would've been SO embarrassing.

"So what was your first job?" "Me? I built a rocket made of diapers and rode it to the moon."

2. The role on Zombie High, yes I tried out for that, don't laugh, It seemed better on paper…probably because Zombie Breath ruined it by even showing up.

3. Pretty much every other role I've tried out for…I think I'd have a better chance if I didn't show up.

4. Four of my girlfriends. Who can't resist a guy that has bad breath and steals breath mints from pretty much everyone? Especially when he _never_ uses them!!

5. Yeah, he stole my breath mints…I'm kinda bitter about that, but hey, I got more…and his mouth still smells like a gorilla. Not that I've been that close to it…you can smell it from like, 10 feet away. I think he ate a skunk.

6. My parents. Yes, my parents. I got an award at the kids choice awards, and did they watch it? NO! A new episode of Zombie High was on.

7. Tons of other things that I really don't feel like mentioning, mostly because you'd probably think I'm an even bigger loser than you already do, which would actually be an accomplishment, since you probably think I'm the biggest loser that ever walked the earth.

Man I hate Jake Ryan, with his white teeth, and his cool clothes, and his nice hair. I think he looks like a sumo wrestler sat on his head though. It's pretty thin. Just like the rest of him. I think he's so busy trying to remember all those stupid lines from his _stupid _movies and his _stupid _TV shows, and his _stupid_ commercials to remember to eat some _stupid food_…not that food's stupid. I like food. I'd give him something to eat…but I don't want to get that close to him.

Ughh…I hate him _so _much

But I got the job this time Zombie Breath!! I finally have my own show…and he does not.

What are you gonna do now Zombie Breath?? Your show's canceled and mine isn't!!

Na na na na na na!!

I'm not really sure what my show is called…all I know is I got the job and Jake didn't.

It could be the newest generation of Barney, I really don't care. Now that I think about it…I think the last guy recently died…

I just know that on the cast list, next to the name ANDY SNYDER, - that's my character's name…but you probably figured that out already - is the name ZACH DYKSTRA -that's me, but you probably figured that out too.

So I'm sitting in my room, trying to stay away from my ungrateful family, but I'm unsuccessful.

Dang it.

My mom knocks on my door…she's probably looking for my brother and thought this was his room. My family isn't known for their intelligence.

"What!" I answer, sounding unbelievably rude. Who cares, _she_ uses that tone with _me _all the time.

"They have someone for Andrea!" She yells through the door, still knocking. I can barely hear her over the pounding.

Wow…she didn't mistake me for my brother…it's amazing. This is probably a first. I should throw a party.

Mom and dad forget me a lot. I guess they'd wanted to have a girl, so when they got me instead, they were a little disappointed. Lucky for them, they got the daughter they'd always wanted. Trent.

Anyway, Andrea is my character's brainless stereotypical cheerleader sister.

Yeah, stereotypical, bet you didn't think I'd know a big word like that. I normally wouldn't…but I got bored yesterday and read through my dad's thesaurus. He's a poet. He writes really bad poems. And by bad, I mean horrible, burns your eyes reading them, make no sense, don't rhyme, poems.

"Who?" I ask, not really as interested as she seemed to think I am.

"Hannah Montana!" She yells through the door, louder than necessary, because my "brother" Trent - who has dubbed himself Hannah's number one fan, and believe me, he's probably close - hears her.

"HANNAH MONTANA!! AWESOME!!" He screams, probably breaking my eardrums.

Thank you Trent. Now I'm deaf. How am I gonna get a job now? I'll have to get stupid roles about blind people or whatever, and go on Dancing With the Stars, like Marlee Matlin. That'll be the end of my career. Toothpaste commercials, here I come!

"I get to meet Hannah Montana! I get to meet Hannah Montana! I get to meet Hannah Montana!" He starts singing, and I have a strong feeling he's dancing along.

Right now I kind of wish I _was _deaf.

I'm not taking him with me. No matter what mom says.

"Cool." I said, calmly. I was more excited than I sounded, but I didn't wanna sound like a complete loser…like Trent.

I know how much people say this, but in the dictionary, next to the word loser, is a picture of my brother. Not only is he Hannah's number one fan, he likes people to know that.

I'd be embarrassed.

He's gone to every concert in this area, with very little begging, although my parents would never let _me _go with him. Not that I'd want to A) Be seen at a Hannah Montana concert…even though her music is good, B) Be seen with Trent, or C) Be seen at a Hannah Montana concert with Trent.

His room is plastered with every poster of her ever made.

His screen saver on his computer? Hannah Montana.

He has Hannah pencils, Hannah Post-it notes.

I would not even be surprised if he had Hannah underwear. Specially made of course, I don't want to believe that anybody would agree to put pictures of their face on underwear, especially Hannah Montana.

He bought every T-shirt at her concerts, and wears all the girly colored ones to bed. At least he has enough common sense not to wear them to school.

Yeah he's obsessed.

And he's _still _singing!

"Shut Up!!" I yell.

Mom yells at me for yelling at him. What kind of parent _is_ she?

So after her little announcement, mom went back to her normal "Ignore Zach and watch Zombie High reruns" ritual, and Trent continued to sing, until I finally opened the door and threw my TV remote at him, nailing him in the head.

Of course, I got grounded. When he throws stuff at me, I get in trouble for taunting him, but they just smile at him.

He could stab me with a fork, and they'd probably ground me for bending the tongs on their favorite fork.

If _I_ stabbed _him_ with a fork…they'd probably use it to kill me.

Oh don't I have nice parents.

My tattletale brother started crying. He's such a wuss. So mom got all mad at me, telling me I could've messed up his brain hitting him that hard.

I said it was too late.

Now I'm under mom's version of house arrest for the next two weeks.

So unfair.


	2. Chapter Two

_**oh my god...the gay cowboy died!! lol I haven't seen the movie but apparently it was good...umm...**_ **Julx27xluvsxHM pointed out that Zach was good at list making before...so I'm gonna change that...**

So a week after we finally cast somebody as Andrea, the producer and director wanted the whole cast to come to the studio for some kind of meeting thing.

Of course, they forgot to call me. About an hour before the meeting was supposed to start, they call up my mom and ask her if she can get me over there. I'm telling you, I think Jessica Simpson brainwashed the entire country. But, unfortunately for me, she doesn't know who I am, so _neither does anybody else_.

Anyways, after they_ finally_ figured out they were missing me, who plays_ the main character_, my mom barged into my room and literally dragged me out to her SUV.

About a block away, I realize I'm only wearing one shoe. Oh, won't _I_ be popular.

When I get there, the director, who is dressed in this weird fuzzy purple suit, with some strange green boots made of something that looks like rotting snakeskin, says "You're late." and gives me this weird look.

Yeah, 'cause it's all my fault you forgot to tell me we were having a meeting.

"We're ten minutes early." My mom said, looking at her watch.

I looked at mine. We are. Ha! In your face!

"Why are you only wearing one shoe?" The director, Barney Royal - Ha ha, Barney, imagine that. - asked me, changing the subject. "Never mind, don't wanna know, your dressing room's that way." He points across the room.

I don't explain my shoe problem, and just go check out my dressing room while my mom starts eating some peanuts, that she found who knows where. Right in the middle of my journey to the other side of the room, she freaks out. My mom, I mean, not the peanuts.

I'm not really sure what gender you would consider a peanut, and I'm really not that interested in finding out. Plus, peanuts are an inanimate object…er…food…whatever, my point is, peanuts can't freak out. That's my mom's job.

It turns out mom forgot to pick up Trent from soccer practice. I think the world would be a better place if she just left him there, but hey, since when does my opinion count?

So after my mom stops embarrassing me, I continue in the direction Barney the big purple director pointed me in.

So my dressing room is right next to the bathroom, and it kinda smells.

I think god hates me.

And THEN, _right_ when I reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens me, hitting me right in the face, and _guess who is behind it._

No really, guess.

Fine, I'll tell you.

_Hannah Montana_ is behind the door.

She comes out with this look on her face that tells me that she thinks it's smells worse than Jake Ryan's breath after he ate a month old onion, too.

Thank god. Not everybody I'm going to be working with has dysfunctional nose.

Well…I guess that's not really something to thank god for…

Anyway…I say anyway too much…_anyway_, Hannah realizes she probably broke my nose or something, and freaks out on me.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She screeches, closing the door carefully.

"Are you ok?" She asks, as she puts her hand on my shoulder and looks at me like she's trying to see up my nose.

"Yeah…unfortunately, I can still smell…" I answer, holding my nose.

"Alright, _seriously_, did a cheese quesadilla crawl in there and die?" She yells at whoever is closest, which so happens to be the big fat purple director himself, Barney.

"I think Bob had lunch in there yesterday." He replies, and he's a lot more friendly when he's talking to her.

He's _so _sexist…or rhymist or something…well her name _does_ rhyme, I'm sorry I can't come up with words on my own as good as you can!

"But it's the women's bathroom…" Hannah says.

"Yeah, well, the men's room smells worse…we're working on fixing that though." He smiles at her and tosses a mop at the closest guy.

"You! Find the quesadilla and get rid of it! And You! Find Bob and tell him to eat lunch in the cafeteria like a normal person!" Barney yells at the guy with the mop and another unfortunate man.

Hannah rolled her eyes and turned back to me.

"Are you sure you're ok? 'Cause if I broke your nose, I would gladly pay for surgery…seriously, it wouldn't be the first time…I actually do this a lot…I'm pretty clumsy most of the time."

I laughed, which kinda hurt, and told her I was fine, and that she didn't need to, she should spend her surgery funds on some air freshener.

Turn out Hannah Montana thinks I'm funny. Ha ha Trent, in your face! In your ugly little soccer field-mud covered face!

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna go check out my dressing room…and pray for all that is good in this world that it doesn't smell like the bathroom."

I went into my dressing room, finally, and discovered that it only smelled_ half as bad_ as the bathroom…

Note to Self: Ask Hannah for air freshener, preferably the pine-scented kind.

Other than the smell, it looked pretty nice. _Well..._it was clean.

I went back out to the area where everybody was standing. Hannah was having an argument with her dad.

"Where were you?" He asked her.

"Bathroom." She answered, obviously much less concerned than he, as she popped one of the peanuts my mother had been eating into her mouth.

Alright, seriously, _where did these peanuts come from?_

"You just went before we left…that was why we were late."

"No daddy, we were late because Jackson used your car keys to scratch off his lottery cards and left them in the dishwasher." She informed him.

"How'd they end up in the dishwasher?" He asked.

"I don't know, do I look like I do the dishes? That boy will do anything if you give him a dollar. I haven't done my chores since I was seven." She said, before laughing.

Her dad looked at me, and I laughed. He just rolled his eyes.

"Hannah!" Where've you been?" Darrell Banks, who I recognized as the show's producer, asked, as he came into the room.

"Bathroom." She repeated, stuffing another handful of peanuts into her mouth.

"But you went when you got here." He said, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I had to pee." She answered, explaining to the entire room what she did in the bathroom.

"Well don't go so much." He replied, trying to get the last word, before turning his back and walking away.

"It's either that or I explode!" Hannah called after him.

"The janitors have enough to do." Her dad said, before following Mr. Banks.

"Yeah, I had a lot of water this morning…random drug testing." Hannah explained to me, once she noticed the weird look I was giving her.

"It's only random if I'm the only one on the list…" She muttered under her breath.

I just stood there, making up a list of possible places she could've been where they did random drug testing, in my head.

**1.**School...but someone like Hannah couldn't go to a public school...she'd be attacked by all kinds of screaming teenagers every day.

**2.** A police station...maybe she got arrested for stealing, like, a pineapple or something...I wouldn't steal a pineapple...I hate pineapple.

**3.** The army...don't they drug test you in the army? But I can't exactly see Hannah Montana running around with a gun blasting the heads off Iraqis...It just seems...weird.

But before I could think of a number 4, my mom came through the door, Trent in tow.

"Quick hide!" I pushed Hannah behind a cart with a bunch of folding tables on it, to protect her from the bone crushing hug she'd most likely get if Trent saw her.

"What the-" She started, but I motioned for her to be quiet and she was.

"Where is she?" Trent yelled at me, probably busting another one of my eardrums.

"She died." I answered, without thinking.

"What?" Trent asked. He obviously didn't believe me. Who knew my little brother was a genius? I sure didn't.

"I mean…she was abducted by monkeys…er…aliens…the army!"

"Yeah, she was abducted by an army of monkeys and aliens…from Brazil." I explained, sounding stupider by the second.

"That's terrible." He said, looking like he was about to cry.

I take back what I said about him being a genius.

**_Alright, I could not come up with any ideas for this chapter, so it actually turned out a lot better than I thought it would...so REVIEW!! er...if you want to...don't wanna be an evil dictator or whatever... _**


	3. Chapter Three

**_I do not know why I deleted this...nobody really reads it but I'm having so much fun writing it lol... Ok, I forgot to explain this...they're like, 15, but the whole Achey Jakey Heart thing never happened, ok?...Also, I changed a couple little things in the first two chapters...like the list stuff...I explain it in the Author's note of the previous chapter though so just go read that._**

The first thing Trent sees through his pathetic baby tears is the bowl of peanuts. He runs off to stuff his fat little face and Hannah gets up from her hiding place.

"Thanks..." She tells me, before I notice she's looking down at my feet.

"Why are you only wearing one shoe?"

"Ummm...on the way here, this hippo attacked our car, you see, and it ate my shoe." I tried to explain.

"I'm smarter than the kid, that ain't gonna work on me." She said, before following everyone else into the conference room.

"Please don't follow me." I told my mom, before going in after Hannah.

So about fifteen minutes into the meeting, Hannah's got her elbows on the table and is resting her head in her hands with her hair covering her face. I can hear her snoring from across the table. I wish I could fall asleep sitting up. If I could, I'd be doing the same thing as her, although _I'd _probably get in trouble for it.

I paid attention for about two minutes, and got bored, so for the rest of the time I've been thinking of ways to do away with Mr. Zombie Breath.

So far, I've come up with this.

**Ways to Kill Jake Ryan**

**1. **Spray paint him a matching color and duct tape him to the bottom of a jet plane/rocket ship headed to moon.

**2.** Lock him and Trent in a room filled with mouthwash, floss, and a rhinoceros. No particular reason I picked a Rhinoceros, it's just big and has a horn.

**3.** Stick him in the freezer at the grocery store and wait for a year.

**4.** Lock him in a bathroom with the past lowest IQ record holders, all armed with a lifetime supply of lipstick. His only weapon would be a piece of string.

While I was trying to figure out how you could use a paper clip chain and a bucket of butter to choke him, I died.

Ok, so I didn't really die, besides, if I had, I could tell you that I didn't die...but you already knew that.

What really happened was this:

The casting director, whatever her name is, was telling everybody who was going to play the pizza delivery guy, and once she bored even more people to the point of tears, she moved on to the subject of Andrea's boyfriend Scott.

_Guess what she said._

"We're currently discussing the role with Jake Ryan."

"NO!!" I yelled, which, now that I think of it, was pretty stupid.

However, gratefully, I wasn't the only one who didn't want him on the show.

Eliminating any chance I had of being able to hear at all when I'm 70, Hannah woke up and yelled,

"No!! Not Jake!!"

She looked embarrassed once she said it, but I was looking at her in a whole new light. It might've been because the light bulb over her head burned out at the exact time she yelled, but it was still kind of reassuring to know I wasn't the only one that didn't like him. It felt good.

Everybody looked at her all weird for about a minute, and then started talking about a budget or something, so Hannah went back to sleep, and I went back to my list making.

**Reasons Hannah Montana Could Hate Jake Ryan**

**1. **He breathed in her face. That'd make _me _wanna punch him.

**2. **He talked to her. Again, that'd make _me_ hate him.

**3. **He tried to feed her to his pet elephant...I'm not sure if Zombie Breath has a pet elephant, but he can sure as heck afford one with all the money he's saving by not buying toothbrushes!!

**4. **He was born.

I need to learn to make longer lists. At least I can come up with titles now...

"All right, that's it for now. Remember people, We start filming the pilot on the 23rd."

I started throwing a party in my head, complete with fireworks and silly string. We even had pizza.

Apparently, however, Hannah wasn't celebrating.

She was still sitting in her seat across from me with a shocked look on her face. I was beginning to think she'd had a heart attack and died or something. That would be extrememly bad. I'd probably get charged with it, and the one thing I'd be known for would be murdering Hannah Montana, when, in reality, I didn't.

"Hannah?" I asked, waving my hand in front of her face.

"Mik...Mik-Oh please kill me!!" She whined.

"Huh?" I asked, probably looking just as stupid as I felt.

"Mikayla." She whispered, like it was the name of the devil.

"What about her?" I asked.

"You weren't paying attention were you?" She asked me, getting up from her chair, to leave the room.

"Well...not exactly...You were sleeping!!" I argued.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't listening." She answered, looking like she was getting annoyed with me.

"But...you can't...what about Mikayla?"

"Umm...let's see, She's a two faced lip-syncing no-talent warthog, she hates me, I hate her, and SHE'S PLAYING YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!" She yelled angrily.

"She is?" I asked, reminding myself to pay attention the next time we had a meeting like this.

Hannah ignored me and started talking to herself.

"Why couldn't the penguins in Antarctica be rabid?"

She started cracking her knuckles and continued talking.

While she was being weird, I made another list. I call it:

**Reasons Hannah Montana Could Hate Mikayla.**

**1. **She has no last name and Hannah's jealous, because _her_ last name rhymes with her first and makes her sound like like some kind of TV show for the three year old children of bad poets...yeah I watched a bunch of those kind of shows when I was little...I blame those shows for my lack of brain cells.

**2. **Mikayla's teeth are whiter.

**3. **Mikayla doesn't stand around talking to herself, cracking her knuckles and making people want to strangle her!! Well, I don't know for a fact that she doesn't do that...I'm just guessing here.

"At least she'd be good looking if penguins attacked her face...then she'd have a reason to have fans..." Hannah continued, still cracking her knuckles, which was giving me a HUGE headache.

"Umm...Hannah? Are you gonna be ok?" I asked, deciding that killing my costar was_ not _a good way to start my career.

But then again, the police would probably forget to arrest me.

No. _Killing Hannah is a **bad **idea._ Her fans are_ scary. _I'm too afraid of what they'd do, I mean, somebody _died_ just trying to get tickets.

I'm not the murderous type anyways.

"Huh?" She asked, her hands finally dropping to her sides.

"Oh...yeah...sure..." She picked up the bowl of peanuts and made her way over to her dressing room.

I really need to figure out where these peanuts are coming from.

"Wait..." Hannah whispered, slowly turning around, the peanuts still in her hand.

"You don't think that quesadilla's still in the bathroom do you?"

"Umm...I don't know."

I decided_ not _to make a list of possible reasons Hannah Montana would want a rotten quesadilla.

She set the peanuts down and made a mad dash for the bathroom.

I finally figured out what she was doing. Hannah had run off to her fate of death by smelly Mexican food.

I better go make sure he doesn't breath in those fumes for too long.

**_Alright, I cannot make these chapters long enough!!...I need ideas...someone tell me what happens next...I think it's the filming of the pilot, but, ya know, I have Alzheimers...not really._**


	4. Chapter Four

**_I got out of school early cuz of a supposed blizzard that probably won't happen, so here I am...alright, the last chapter sucked...mostly because I just come up with these things on the spot, so there isn't much though put into it...so hopefully this one will be better...here is where the actual eating disorder starts, so it should be more exciting... _**

**_Disclaimer: Ummm...Like a person who rents a house, I own nothing..._**

So the three weeks after the meeting went by pretty slow, since I was grounded for almost half of them. After my mom finally let me leave the house, I went to see some movies with friends and did pretty much nothing else.

What can I say? I'm a boring person.

Oh, but the other day, this little girl recognized me from my role in _S.P.Y : Sleuths Preparing Youths. _It was a pretty stupid movie and the title rhymed too much, but that was the one I got the award for, so I guess it wasn't all that bad.

Anyways, the girl asked me to sign her T-shirt, and I, being the idiot that I am, forgot my own name. I eventually remembered it and signed her shirt for her, but she was getting pretty impatient by then.

By the end of the third week, I was getting bored. I just wanted to get to work, but there was nothing to do at the studio, aside from spraying gallons of air freshener all over the place.

I decided to make lists while I was waiting.

**Things to Do While Waiting for Filming to Start**

**1. **Go bungee jumping. Although I'm not so sure it'd be safe, and If I died...Zombie Breath would probably get my job. I'll cross this one off the list.

**2. **Go to a dairy farm and milk cows. When I'm famous, I don't want people to think I'm spoiled and haven't had to work a day in my life. I would milk goats, but I had a bad experience with goats on my Uncle Gary's farm one summer when I was nine. I still have nightmares.

**3. **Prank call Hannah. Unfortunately, I don't have her number though, and I'm not so sure what she'd do if she found out it was me. Maybe she'd sic one of her vicious fans on me. That's a scary thought.

Note to Self: Give Hannah _no_ reason to attack and/or have somebody else attack me.

**4. **Listen to Trent's CD collection. That's an even scarier thought than getting mauled by an angry Hannah-fan. Trent has terrible tastes.

**5. **Go to the music store and by Trent a bunch of new CDs. See above.

**6. **Die my hair all the colors of the rainbow and run around town screaming "I'm Roy G. Biv!!!!"

**7. **Read/study my script? This might be a good idea.

I never actually got a chance to do any of the first six things on my list, because I ended up getting Pneumonia. It was great.

I was being sarcastic there...

Fortunately, I got better about two days before we were set to start filming. My then, I couldn't wait to get it over with, having read the script over and over the entire time I was sick.

I almost slept in on the 23rd. Mom forgot to wake me up, of course.

I skipped breakfast, er...I was forced into my dad's car before I could finish my Frosted Flakes. I took a bowl with me and planned to eat it while they were doing my hair and stuff.

When we got there, dad pushed me out of the car and left to go get coffee. How nice is he?

When I went inside, I almost hit Hannah with the door. Maybe I should've. I could've got her back for hitting _me._

She was yawning when I passed her, and had bags under her eyes.

"Zach!" She suddenly exclaimed, once she stopped yawning.

"I wanna show you my dressing room!" She grabbed ahold of my arm and pulled me across the room, which was now much cleaner and smelled a whole lot cleaner.

I was just surprised she knew my name.

She opened the door of her dressing room. It had pictures taped all over the wall, of random people I didn't know, and of Hannah and more random people I didn't know.

She had some of those black paper streamers, the kind you see at birthday parties, only black and sorta depressing, wrapped around a big circular mirror over a table up against the wall. Well, of course it was up against the wall, what else would she attach the mirror too? Maybe she could glue it to her dad's back and have him stand there.

There was a large dry erase board on the wall across from the mirror, framed in some sort of pink feathery stuff. As much as I didn't like pink, it actually looked pretty nice.

She had a black and white striped rug on the floor, and this fluffy pink chair in the corner. It looked really soft. I desperately wanted to sit in it.

"What do you think?" She asked, reaching for the bowl of Frosted Flakes i had in my hands.

"I like it...HEY!!!" I tried to take the Frosted Flakes back, but she was across the room and sitting on top of the desk before I could get to her. She stuffed a whole handful of my breakfast in her mouth and smiled at me.

I decided I wasn't that hungry anyways and let her have them.

I sat down in the fluffy pink chair. It_ was _soft.

I didn't notice Mikayla standing in the doorway until she commented on the pink chair I was sitting in. Let me tell you, I can see why Hannah hates her.

"Hannah!!" She greeted, with strange enthusiasm.

"I just saw you out by that music store on 5th avenue yesterday. You were wearing that ugly yellow coat...at first I thought you were a cab...but then I saw your hair...my my, you really have grown."

Hannah set the Frosted Flakes down and twirled her hair around her finger.

"At least people can't mistake _me_ for _Uncle Fester_." Hannah replied, still twirling her hair around her finger, not keeping eye contact.

"Well...at least I can sing!" Mikayla screeched before rushing out of the room, laughing.

"Don't listen to her...you can sing _way_ better than her." I told her.

"Oh...so you're saying my yellow coat _is _ugly?" She asked, smiling.

Hannah got up and said,

"You can have your cereal back."

She left the room, probably to kill Mikayla, I know I would. I just really need this job, and I don't think murdering a stuck up pop star would do much for my career. But then again, O.J's pretty famous and he killed someone.

I picked up the Frosted Flakes and followed her out the door. I just needed to hide, I don't wanna get charged with acessory to murder.

It turns out Hannah went the complete opposite direction. She was talking to a woman about something, and Mikayla was picking through those peanuts that are probably stale by now.

I hope she gets food poisoning.

A couple hours later, we were on the set, having got our hair, wardrobe, make-up and everything done. Hannah had insisted on doing her own hair, and it actually looked pretty nice considering the rest of us had had ours done by the woman Hannah had been talking to earlier.

"Ok, so Jack-" The director was saying.

"It's Zach." I corrected.

"Whatever. Anyways, Jack, you need to scream like a girl ok? You're supposed to be a nerd."

"It's_ Zach, _and I know that already, I've read the script like a thousand times." I told him.

"I don't care how much you read it Jack, just reember, girly scream."

I gave up on correcting him and agreed.

"Alright, places everybody!!!" The director yelled.

"Hannah, Jake!" He yelled, before grabbing each of them by the elbow and dragging them away.

I felt really bad for Hannah at the moment. I hope she had enough sense to stuff cotton up her nose before coming here.

She turned around and mouthed 'help me!!!'

I laughed and she glared at me.

They started filming and I got in place.

I screamed like a girl and ran down the hallway, like I was supposed to.

"My eyes!! My eyes!!" I screamed, as Joe Schrader and Denise Miller, who played my parents, Terry and Wanda, came through the fake doorway.

"What happened? You didn't watch our wedding video did you?" Denise asked me, sounding nervous.

"No...but it's almost as bad." I said.

"Just tell us what happened. You didn't poke yourself in the eye with the remote again did you?" Joe asked.

"No...I went to Andrea's room to ask her if she had my Star Wars soundtrack-"

"Why would she have your Star Wars soundtrack? Andrea doesn't listen to nerd music." Denise said, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not nerd music!! _Anyways _I went in there...and she's in there with Scott..."

"What!!!" Both of my fake parents yelled, before sprinting down the fake hallway.

They beat on the fake door, and Hannah appeared in the doorway, pulling up the front of her shirt.

"What?" She asked, angrily, pulling the door closed behind her.

She gave me a dirty look, and it kind of scared me. It was strange to see her looking at me like that.

"Open the door." Joe said.

"Umm...dad...you see, we uh..."

"Open the door." Denise said, angrily, and Hannah instantly through the door open.

"Scott." She called into the room.

Zombie breath's head popped up from behind the bed.

"Hello Mrs. S...Mr. S...Geek."

"It's Andy!" I replied

"So...how are you guys?" He asked, doing his best to sound nervous and failing miserably.

"CUT!!!" Barney yelled, while stuffing his face with the peanuts Mikayla had been eating earlier. I hope they're both sick later.

"Time for lunch!!!"

Hannah sighed and pulled up the front of the tank top again, before following me into the conference room, where they had all the food.

I loaded my plate with food, and was sitting down when I noticed Hannah was still tanding by the table.

"You gonna eat?" I asked, my mouth full of cheese.

"Umm...yeah...I'll just...have an apple." She grabbed an apple and sat down next to me.

She took one bite and stared at the table, not chewing it.

"You ok?" I asked.

She finished chewing, took another bite, and nodded.

I started eating again, and noticed Mikayla come through the door. She still wasn't dressed, and looked sort of sick.

I laughed to myself and she stared at me. I could practically feel lasers shooting from her eyes.

Hannah got up quickly and left the room, dumping the apple in the garbage can and purposely bumping into Mikayla on her way out.

**_Oh jeez...this is not turning out well at all...I appologize!!_**


	5. Chapter Five

**_So much for the blizzard lol, we didn't get any snow at all...Weather _****_people are retarded...so I took more time to write this one,like, more than 1 hour lol...so I hope it's better... ah...people have been asking...I think it was the second chapter where Hannah kept going to the bathroom...it wasn't cause she was puking or whatever...I'm gonna say she was telling the truth about the drug testing...mostly 'cause when i had it done, I drank so much water I was constantly using the bathroom for days. But yeah, the eating disorder started last chapter._**

By the time filming was wrapped up, Hannah looked like she was about to pull out Mikayla's intestines and strangle her with them. I'm pretty sure the only thing stopping her was all the blood she would get on her clothes if she actually did it.

I guess Mikayla's constant insults were about to drive her over the edge.

This is weird for me, but I actually hated her more than Zombie Breath for about ten minutes one day when she asked me if I was gay. I mean, asking someone that at all is pretty mean, but she made it even worse, if that's possible.

Yeah, she's that bad.

Even Zombie Breath looked pretty annoyed. I figured that since both Hannah and I hated him and Mikayla, they'd probably get married or something.

They're both equally conceited, so maybe they'd even each other out and actually be nice. Hannah told me my theory was stupid and proceeded by stuffing some of the pictures she had been taking down in my face.

I think I have a paper cut on my nose now. The woman has done some pretty serious damage to my Schnozzola. Yeah, my mom calls her nose her "Schnozzola," and it kinda stuck. She says some pretty weird stuff. Like "Son of a biscuit eating bulldog!" and "That sticks out like a turd in a punch bowl." or when you say you're thirsty, she says "I'm Friday, come over Saturday and we'll have a Sunday." I've learned not to tell my mother that I'm thirsty. Or talk to her at all. She's embarrassing in public.

Anyways, I am gonna be one screwed up senior citizen. I bet by the time I'm sixty, I won't be able to smell, hear, and, If I have to keep looking at Mikayla, see.

I swear, one of these days, lasers are gonna shoot out of her eyes and behead me. I said this to Hannah, and all she said was,

"That would be painful."

While trying to stay as far away from Jake and Mikayla, we had actually become pretty good friends.

Trent was extremely jealous. After he found out Hannah _hadn't _been abducted by martian monkeys, he was pretty angry. I'm pretty sure he put raisins in those cookies he made me the other day. He knows I'm allergic, and now that I think of it, Trent never goes out of his way to be anything more than a snotty twelve year old girl to me.

It was pretty gross, my lips swelled up and I couldn't eat for the rest of the day. I'm gonna get him for that.

Hannah was usually interested in my theories about Jake and Mikayla, but that day, she didn't seem to be listening to anything I was saying. I figured she was just having a bad day, I mean, doesn't that happen to every girl? If not...all the girls I know are seriously messed up.

If I were Hannah, I'd probably go insane...not that I'm not already pretty crazy. Hannah likes to tell me that every time I say something. I guess I can use it as an excuse every time I say or do something stupid...but at this rate, I'll be in a straight jacket by Thanksgiving.

But anyways, Hannah's friend Lola came by the set Monday. She has this long crazy lime green hair that kinda hurts your eyes. Her clothes are the kind you'd usually see on an old lady, but on her...ah what the heck, she looked like an old lady, and her shirt clashed with the weird skirt she was wearing. Just as long as she never finds out I thought that, I think I'm ok. Although she does kind of give the impression of being able to read you're mind. She kept staring at me the whole time she was there. Lola carried this huge bag full of M&Ms around with her, and by that night, she had eaten the entire bag.

Let's put it this way. Hannah ate two of them, and she was on a sugar high for hours. She kept blasting music in her dressing room, dancing along. She tried to get me to dance with her about ten times, and when she finally decided I was never going to dance with her unless I was like, brain dead...which I almost am...she started dancing with Barney.

He looked kind of angry, but he did it anyways. It was a weird sight. Barney's kinda short, and he needs to lose, say, fifty pounds. Hannah's got to be at least five inches taller than him - she is way taller in person - and she looks like she needs to _gain _weight.

He looked like a pumpkin, and Hannah looked like...what's a vegetable that's long and skinny? A cucumber maybe? I don't know, I don't eat many vegetables...that's probably why I get sick so much. Is candy corn a vegetable? It has corn in it...

I wasn't so sure why Lola wasn't the one dancing with Hannah. Last I had seen her, she was spinning around in circles, running into everybody. I think I have some bruises thanks to her.

At about the time Lola's sugar rush ended, Hannah's brother showed up. He had this beanie on, even though it was June, and these really dark, round sunglasses. They made him look like Ozzy Osbourne...only less...drug addict-ty...or maybe Stevie Wonder...only less black. I don't know who he looked like, he just creeped me out. I kept getting the feeling that he was staring at me through those glasses. I'm not so sure he could see through them though, he kept running into walls and stuff. He actually knocked over Jake, so I guess he wasn't all that bad.

The next day, I was sitting in Hannah's dressing room, in that really soft fluffy pink chair, while she was perched on the table, with her back against the mirror. She was rolling the black party streamers into a ball, while staring at her feet.

"Are you ok?" I asked. She ignored me and continued to stare at her feet.

She picked up the stack of pictures sitting next to her and started throwing random photos in the garbage.

I got up and reached for the pictures.

"Why are you throwing those away?" I asked.

She yanked them out of my hands and continued throwing most of them away.

I considered trying to stop her again, but decided that that was a dangerous battle I was not willing to fight, fearing for the lives of my fingers. I'd like to keep all ten of them, thank you very much.

"Getting ready for your new movie? _When Feet Attack _OoooOooooOooooOoooh." I even did the wiggling your fingers thing like they do in the movies.

"Why do you ask so many questions?" She asked, still staring at her feet.

"Why don't _you_ give me any answers?" I replied, smiling.

"Why don't you marry an encyclopedia or something?"

"You can't marry a book!" I exclaimed.

She looked up at me and gave me one of those "If you say one more word, I'll kill you" looks. I decided this was the best time to leave, told her I'd be right back, and exited the room.

Of course, I ran into Zombie Breath in the hallway.

Guess what he was holding.

A bowl of raisins!!

"Want some?" he asked me, for what seemed like the five thousandth time.

"No!!" I replied, giving him the same look Hannah had gave me, before passing him and going inside my own dressing room.

I sat down on the floor. I didn't have a cool fluffy pink chair...although If I had one, I think I'd rather have it in blue or green...maybe black.

I sat there and made another list.

**_Reasons Jake Ryan Could Possibly Keep Asking Me If I Want Some Stupid Raisins _**

**_1. _**He actually thinks I'm stupid enough to eat something I'm allergic to. Well...maybe I am...but that's beside the point.

**2. **He has Alzheimer's and keeps forgetting he already asked me A HUNDRED TIMES!!

**3. **He's just stupid and forgot.

**4. **He's ugly. Ok, so that one doesn't't really work, and I'm sure that if you asked the next girl that passed your house, she'd probably disagree, but I really wanted to add that one. You know, make it known that I think he's the most hideous creature on the planet.

I couldn't think of a 5th reason, so I decided to try calling my mom again. She didn't answer.

When she got caller ID, she told me it was so that her crazy ex-boyfriend from high school, who just got released from a mental facility, wouldn't keep calling, but I'm pretty sure she got it so that every time I called she could ignore it, because that's what she does.

My phone died before I could try my dad again, and I didn't really feel like asking Hannah if I could borrow her phone was a good idea at the present time, so I plugged mine into the charger and decided to spy on everybody, so I snuck out of my room, wishing I had one of those cool black outfits to make this more realistic.

Jake was still eating the raisins. Mikayla was complaining about something. Barney was asking Bob for the millionth time to quit eating in the bathroom, and almost everyone else was gone. This is boring. I wish _I_ could leave. But NO!! My mom just _had _to get caller ID.

I saw the infamous peanuts lying on a table, got rid of them, and took a fresh bowl back to Hannah. When I found her, she was stretched out on the table sleeping.

"Wakey wakey! Peanuts and...something that rhymes with peanuts..." I exclaimed, tickling her until she woke up.

"Zach!" She growled. She sounded like my mother. It was kinda scary.

I'm pretty sure I'm only friends with Hannah because I'm too scared to be her enemy On a bad day, she's like a terrorist with an atomic bomb. One wrong move and BOOM!!!!! So far she's only had one day like that...COUGH-today-COUGH. I consider myself lucky.

When she stopped giving me this dirty look that reminded me of my Great Aunt Tilly - She's scary by the way...worse than my mom and Hannah combined - I sat down in the chair again.

"Here." I said, handing her the peanuts.

"Don't worry, they aren't the stale ones. I gave those to Mikayla. Don't expect her to leave her house tomorrow...I'm pretty sure she'll be infect with E Coli or something..."

"Good." She said, yawning.

I pushed the peanuts further down the table, and she shook her head.

"I don't want them." She said, sitting up.

"Yes you do...you have I-don't-want-any-peanuts-right-now-acitus...it's this disease where you think you don't want to eat peanuts, but you actually do."

"Where'd you learn about that?" She asked.

"I made it up." I replied, picking up a peanut and eating it.

She stared at the peanuts. She looked up at me and back down at the peanuts before grabbing a couple and eating them one at a time.

"You're cured!!!" I yelled. She laughed and grabbed a couple more.

Just then, her phone rang. She dropped the rest of the peanuts into the bowl, which was kinda gross, 'cause I'm pretty sure she sweated all over them.

"Hello?" She said into the phone. I just stared at her. She gave me yet another weird look, said,

"Daddy...umm, yeah, we're done...did you look in the dishwasher...that's where they were last time, remember?"

She got up and started packing things up, still talking to who I was assuming was her dad.

"Yes I'll wait for you! What'd you think I was gonna do, swim to Japan and have a picnic with the pope?...Yes I know the pope's not from Japan dad, who do you think I am, Zach?"

She smiled at me, said good bye, and hung up.

"The pope's really not from Japan?" I asked.

"I guess not." She replied.

Later that night, I pulled back the sheets on my bed to find it covered in PLASTIC BUGS. Obviously one of Trent's weird but presentable collections. He doesn't dare show his friends the Hannah stuff. They'd think he's weird. I don't know what he's got to be afraid of, they _already _think he's weird.

I picked all of them out of my bed and snuck into the kitchen.

Let's just say that tomorrow morning, when Trent get's his breakfast, he's gonna get a lot more than Fruit Loops. I wish I had some real bugs though, that'd show him.

**_grrrrr...there's no hope for me...This chapter took me about 4 1/2 hours...compared to the 1 it usually takes me to write one chapter, thats a lot...this should be better... _**


	6. Chapter Six

**_Hola!!!...Buenas Dias...Buenas Tardes...Buenes Noches...depends on whenever you're reading it...whatever, HI!!!_**

**_Disclaimer: Well, unfortunately, I only have two arms, all my toes, and all my fingers, so I am not famous enough to have created my own TV show...lol, like, only one person is gonna get that...I love inside jokes lol..._**

While I was waiting for a network to pick up our show, I decided that I should probably go to school. You know, in case acting doesn't work out and I decide to do something other than flip so called "burgers" for the rest of my life.

If those things are real beef, I'll eat my right arm.

So anyways, at the end of August, I went back to the school I'd been going to for pretty much, ever. The sad thing is, not even the people there recognized me. I probably had 15 people, that I went to _kindergarten _with come up to me and ask me if I was the new kid from Japan. Do I look Asian? No! My family is as Dutch as you can get. Seriously, look it up. Dykstra is a Dutch name. Like, wooden shoe, tulips that attract too many bees, windmills, ugly hats kind of Dutch.

All I learned at school that I can remember, was that "Tengo un gato grande en mis pantalones" means "I have a large cat in my pants" in spanish**_.(that's actually the first thing my spanish teacher taught us...that and "Where's the nude beach")_**

So since I have like, no friends at school, whatsoever, I've been bored. I watched things on TV that I would never admit to anybody. As in, if Hannah threatened me with a chicken enchilada **_(lol)_** sharpened to a point, I wouldn't tell even her.

Fortunately, about two weeks into the school year, I'm sitting at home, at like, midnight, on a Friday night, watching this Lifetime movie about this Amish girl that murdered a baby, and my phone rings.

So I pick it up. Well, what else are you gonna do with it, cover it in peanut butter and serve it to Abraham Lincoln on a platter?

Turns out, it's Hannah. Enchilada free.

"Zach!!" She yells in my ear. Seriously, I am really surprised I'm not deaf yet. Only a matter of years...or at this rate...seconds.

"Are you willing to pay for a hearing aid?" I asked.

"Why?" She asked.

"Because I'm gonna need one if you don't quit yelling in my ear every stinking time you call me!" I yelled back.

Yeah, Hannah's made a ritual out of calling me in the middle of the night to yell in my ear about how she won her 537th game of Solitaire.

"And so am I if you keep yelling about it!" She yelled back.

"And if you keep yelling at me for yelling at you, a hearing aid isn't gonna help!!" I yelled. Good thing my parents aren't here. They'd probably force me into a bath tub full of acid.

Ouch.

"I think it's time to quit yelling."

"Ya think?" I asked.

"Hey, that's my catch phrase." Hannah replied, laughing.

"Oh yeah...you just say it so much that I get confused as to what's your catch phrase, and what's mine."

She was quiet for a second, then said,

"That would make so much sense if you _actually had a catch phrase."_

"Oh...yeah...well, it's late, and these Amish people are confusing me." I told her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I started flipping the channels.

"So why are you cal- Oh my god that guy's grilling a cat!!!!!" I suddenly yelled, as I paused while flipping through the channels.

"What?"

"TV." I answered, as I looked more closely at the TV screen.

"_What _are you watching?"

"I don't know...oh wait, it's a fake cat. It's all good." I sat back down on the couch and resumed my channel surfing.

"So what did you call for?" I finally finished asking.

"Ummm...oh yeah, The BW picked up the show!" She screeched.

"What? Awesome!!!"

"Only, they want to change the name." She continued.

"Well, since it's abut a genius - it's a good thing you're a good actor, by the way, 'cause otherwise you could never pull that off - who works for the CIA, they want to call it SuperSpy."

"It's not gonna stand for something weird, like...well, I'm not good at coming up with that stuff, but you know how other people are."

"I think it's actually gonna mean SuperSpy...why?"

"Did you see S.P.Y?" I asked.

"Ummm...no..."

"Consider yourself lucky."

"Ok...well, good night, I guess." She said. I could actually hear her yawning. That's the great thing about the telephone. You can actually hear people through it. Wait a minute...I think that's the point.

"Oh, wait...when they call you to tell you when they're filming again and stuff...can you call me?"

"Why?" She asked, yawning again.

I flipped a couple more channels.

"Cause they're gonna forget to call me...Holy cow he's grilling a dog now!!!!!!!!"

"Yeah sure...just...go to bed will you? I'm kinda afraid I'm gonna hear you yelling "Holy Cricket, he's grilling a goat!!!" even _after_ I hang up."

"_Good night._" I replied, and I hung up.

I switched the channel and fell asleep to the sound of giant body builders, dressed as raccoons, competing in one of those games where they stand on the log and try not to fall off.

TV nowadays. I can only hope I never have to dress up like a raccoon in my show. My luck, I will.

While I was sleeping, I had this dream where Hannah and I were going to the prom, only we were dressed like cats. I can only guess what the prom looks like, considering I've never been to one...and don't ask why I was there with Hannah, ok? It's a dream, I didn't have a choice.

So anyways, in my dream, we were drinking punch, and these giant bodybuilders came up to us, and they tied us to sticks and tried to roast us over a fire. I don't know what happened next though, because I woke up, but I'm guessing we were roasted to death.

When I woke up, I was bored, so I decided to make another list, considering everything I learned that night.

**_Things to Stay Away From_**

**_1. _**Bodybuilders. They're just plain scary anyways, even when they're _not _trying to make me and Hannah into smores. _Especially _the ones of the female variety.

**2. **Raccoons. They're so mischievous. -Another big word I learned!!! - Always stealing your garbage...what do they do with _their _trash?

**3. **Porcupines during mating season...I learned this while channel surfing last night. Apparently the male porcupine covers the female porcupine from head to toe in his own urine. Nasty, right? I'm so glad I'm a human...and not a female porcupine...

**4. **Jake Ryan when he runs out of hair gel. That should explain itself.

**5. **Hannah when she first wakes up. I am _never _calling her before 11 AM again.

**6. **A rhinoceros that just got poked in the eye. Even more so if you were the one that did the poking.

**7. **My mother.

**8. **My father.

**9. **Trent.

**10. **All other family members.

**11. **...prom.

After I concluded my most recent list, my phone rang again.

I checked the clock.

10:49. It can't be Hannah.

I looked at the phone.

It _is!! _It must be an emergency...maybe she _actually _got roasted over a fire by some creepy bodybuilders at the prom! If she did...I'm gonna feel guilty for the rest of my life.

"Hello?" I asked cautiously.

"Zach!" She yelled, slightly quieter than the night before.

"Umm...Hannah!!!"

"I didn't wake you up did I?"

"Not in the traditional sense..." I answered, thinking of my weird dream.

"Ok..." She was being very helpful in the Why Am I Calling area.

"Why do you keep calling me?" I asked her, trying not to sound mean.

"Because, you are my new best friend! Why...am I annoying you?" She asked.

She was being strangely hyper. Maybe Lola and her big 'ole bag 'o candy spent the night. I had a strange feeling I was the subject of a prank call.

"No..." I answered.

"Well, you better get ready, because we're going shopping today!" She said, excitedly.

"_Shopping? _Why me?"

"Because, I haven't seen you in like, 2 months."

"I'll e-mail you a picture then."

"If you don't agree, I'm sending my bodyguard." She threatened.

"Ok, I'm getting ready! Bye!" I hung up and started getting ready.

Unfortunately, I'd met Hannah's body guard. She is one_ creepy _lady!!. She's almost as bad as a bodybuilder. And she thinks she's some kind of wild cat.

I yelled to my mom that I was leaving. She didn't care. I could tell her I was gonna go bungee jumping in a volcano, using floss as the cables, and she wouldn't care.

Since Hannah found out where I live...which kind of scares me, since I was not the one that told her, I only had to stand outside my house to wait for her.

This shiny silver car pulls up in front of my house, and I can see her dad through the windshield.

Wonderful. A day with Hannah's dad. Luckily enough, her body guard is nowhere to be seen. But that doesn't mean she's not there. Roxy's _everywhere!_

I opened the door to the back seat and slid in next to Hannah. It was weird to see her dressed so...casually. She had on these jeans that looked like they were a couple sizes too big, and this sparkley green shirt, that also looked a little too big, with a brown jacket that looked like one my mom had. I should probably check mom's closet when I get home. Just to check, you know. She _did _find out where I lived pretty easily. The only thing she was wearing that I didn't see on the girls at school, was a pair of sunglasses, with these weird shiny jewels down the sides.

The car stopped in front of the mall, and Hannah leaned forward to whisper something to her dad.

He irritably unlocked the doors, which he had locked the second I got in, with a weird look in my direction, and leaned back in his seat.

Hannah pulled the hood up on her jacket, which covered pretty much her entire head, since it was obviously made for someone with a head three times as big as hers, and adjusted her sunglasses.

She got out of the car, and I followed her.

The second I got a _good _look at her, I noticed how pale she was. Her skin was sort of...yellow.

"What?" She asked, having noticed I was staring.

"Nothing." I said. Maybe a yellow marker exploded on her or something?

"Good. Let's go." She said, before dragging me into the mall. I have a feeling she only brought me so she'd have someone to carry her bags.

Maybe her bodyguard wouldn't have been so scary...

**_well, i tried...this actually isn't so bad, considering I just wrote a chapter of Listen..._**


	7. Chapter Seven

**_Ok, so I was about as bored as a...really bored person...sorry I suck at metaphors...so I decided to write this...ok, so this is majorly off topic, but I never realized how much Nick Jonas sounds like a girl...I have a more manly voice than him lol...ok, so now someone probably wants to punch me, but if it helps...I do sound a lot like a guy...it sucks, really..._**

**_Disclaimer: Still waiting for that third arm to come in...ha ha_**

About ten minutes into our so called "shopping spree", I realized that we were not here because Hannah needed new clothes...although I say she could use some smaller pants...I don't know how she doesn't trip in those... We were here because Hannah thought _I _needed new clothes.

"Because you dress like my dad did in the eighties." She answered, when I asked her why she felt the need to update my entire wardrobe.

"But wasn't he like...a rock star?" I asked. Didn't all rock stars dress really cool?

"That doesn't mean he had a good sense of style Jack - I mean Nick - no, I meant to say Zach. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I asked, embarrassed that I had completely zoned out.

"_Anyways,_ my dad had a mullet. doesn't that say something about his fashion sense? Well, I guess it ran in the family, dad says his grandma had one...but when I was born she was bald, so I really don't know, but..." She started talking and talking extremely fast, and I could no longer understand her.

I just nodded every time she paused, and tried to look like I was listening - good thing I'm an actor - when i was really constructing another list in my head.

**_Posible Reasons That Hannah Montana Feels the Need to Speak At 100 MPH_**

**1. **She's high. I've actually had this feeling before, I mean, one minute she's actually interested in what I'm saying, and the next, she's practically asleep. Aren't those symptoms of drug use? I kind of slept through D.A.R.E. at school, so I really don't know.

**2. **Her lungs are shrinking, so she has to take smaller breaths, and can't pause between breaths anymore, so she has to keep talking and talking and talking really fast until her lungs disappear and she dies.

**3. **She's insane and just feels like it.

I think I'm gonna go with the latter. That's another word I learned from my dad's thesaurus, latter. Now that I think of it, I'm not so sure I put the thesaurus back...he's gonna be mad when I get home. Maybe Hannah will let me live in the cupboard under her kitchen sink...

Eventually, I quit spacing out and noticed that Hannah was lookin at me. She was obviously expecting an answer.

Oops.

"What was the question, again?" I asked.

She sighed and pulled me into a store so fast that I couldn't catch the name. She started holding up shirts, talking to herself.

"Too many stripes...perfect...good...nice color...yuck...is this a shirt or a used tissue?"

While Hannah was so engrossed in buying me enough clothes for an army, I stared at her.

She was less yellow now, more grey. She still had on those sunglasses. She looked rediculous, this store was so dark I could barely see ten feet away. She obviously can't tell how stupid she looks to all these people.

She help up couple of shirts to compare them to my poopy brown eyes - that's what she said at least...not that they were poopy brown...just...you know - and she noticed that I was staring at her. I swear I saw her eyes narrow, even through those dark lenses.

"What?" She asked, looping the shirts over her arm.

"Nothing...are we almost done?"

Fifteen minutes later, I managed to drag her out of the store - which was a huge accomplishment, I tell you - after paying for the clothes I didn't even want in the first place.

We ended up wandering around the mall, her carrying nothing but a bottle of water she forced me to buy for her, and me carrying everything else. She slowed down as we passed a magazine stand, and whispered under her breath,

"Son of a motherless goat."

"Wait a minute...did you just say _son of a motherless goat?_"

"Yeah, whatever, shut up..." She mumbled, taking a closer look at the magazines.

I looked over her shoulder and noticed that she was on the cover of nearly_ every_ magazine. Even Cat Fancy! I don't think Hannah even _has _a cat.

I took a closer look at the headlines.

"Is it even possible to have twenty four kids at once?" I asked.

She didn't answer, and started picking up random magazines.

"Oh, so you got a nose job and didn't tell me?"

Again she ignored me.

"Hannah Gives Paris A Black Eye For Insulting Her Music." I read aloud.

"Isn't Paris in jail again? It's amazing you got her from the other side of the bars"

I read a couple more headlines out loud.

"Is there even such thing as a 'cat food diet'?" I asked, reading the cover of _Cat Fancy_.

"Oh my god, you died? Great, I've been shopping with a walking corpse."

Suddenly, she started laughing like a maniac, and was hanging off my shoulder.

"I'm _actually _on the cover of _every _magazine...even _Malaysian Monkeys Monthly_" She managed to say. Well, I guess we can cross number two off the list. I think I'm gonna go for drugs now.

"Hannah...are you _high_?" I asked.

She started laughing even harder. I think her lungs might've _grown._

"Let's go get something to eat." She said, without answering my question.

We stopped at a burger king next to the entrance, and I noticed that the first "R" in Burger was burnt out.

"Buger king...sounds a lot like Booger King." I said.

Hannah started laughing again, and almost couldn't order her food.

I swear, this girl is insane _and _high.

She ordered a cheeseburger and some fries, and by the time I got back from getting some napkins, she had already stuffed half of her fries down her throat.

"Woah...someone's hungry. When was the last time you ate, last year?" I asked.

She looked down at her fries and shoved some more into her mouth.

I started eating, and before I had eaten even two fries, she had finished hers.

"You want my burger? I'm not so hungry anymore..."

She sounded like she was about to fall asleep, but I wouldn't be able to tell if she did, because she still had those stupid sunglasses on!!

"Why are you wearing these?" I asked, pulling them off her face. She snatched them from my hands and put them back on, but not before I noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

I theorized that Hannah had gone to buy drugs from these people, and since she was insane and didn't know what money was, the punched her and gave her two black eyes. I'm pretty sure it explains her behavior.

"I...uh...I'll be right back." She said, before getting up quickly, almost knocking over the chair, and ran away.

Right after she left, this guy I recognized from my geometry class sat down in her seat.

"Dude...what kind of date is this? You run her off?" He asked.

"It's not a date." I told him.

"Why, that your sister? She's hot." He replied, looking over his shoulder and nodding, looking like a complete 'tard in the process.

"How can you tell, _I _can't even see her, and she's been sitting across from me for the last five minutes."

"Whatever dude, just trying to be friendly." He took Hannah's burger, took a bite, and got up and left, taking the burger with him. Yeah, a friendly burger burgler. That makes a lot of sense.

A couple minutes later, Hannah came back. She sat down and was quiet, except for the sound of her chewing some gum that came out of nowhere. There must be some magic spell that everybody but me knows, that you can use to make food appear out of thin air.

She looked kind of green now, instead of grey. She was sweating a little, too.

"You ok?" I asked, before swallowing the last bite of my burger.

"I don't really...feel good...do you care if I call my dad?" She asked. She sounded tired, and I could barely hear her.

"No, I didn't even want to come anyways. You threatened me, remember?"

"Yeah, whatever..." She replied, taking her phone out.

Twenty minutes later, we were in the back seat of Hannah's dad's car, and he was still giving me those dirty looks. Hannah had her eyes closed, but I could tell she wasn't asleep. Well, I didn't think she was. I'm not so good at these kinds of things, you know.

We stopped at my house, and the second I got out of the car, I heard the doors lock. Friendly guy, her dad.

I went inside just in time to hear my brother open his customary bowl of cereal for lunch. Lucky for him, I found real bugs this time.

**...hmmm...well, it seems like when I say REVIEW, in caps like that, people actually REVIEW more...so REVIEW!!! The exclamation points help too...**


	8. Chapter Eight

OK, so I don't doubt that you guys are tired of me, but I just need to keep doing this before I get in the "I don't wanna write anything" mood again...so...

Disclaimer: I own Zach...lol...as for everything else...Arms: 2, Toes: 10, Fingers: 10...:( I guess the people at Disney are probably pretty deformed...

By the time my mom finally let up on the punishment - I got grounded for three weeks for the bug incident - I was about ready to get in big trouble again.

For the first of the three weeks, Trent discovered _The Andy Milonakis Show_.

He'd run around the house singing the only part of the theme song he knew.

"It's my show, I'm Andy Milonakis!"

It was even worse than it sounds, because he has a terrible singing voice. As in, he sounds like a six year old girl on helium. Yeah, he's that bad.

When I successfully got through a week without chopping off his head with my mom's butcher knife, he started a new obsession. As in, he forgot all about Hannah. I know, it's amazing. I never thought this could happen. I should call Hannah and tell her it's safe to come within a block of my house now. But wait, I can't. My mom _still _hasn't gave me my phone back.

So now, Trent's obsessed with **The Jonas Brothers. **Poor guys.

I had no problem with them until now. Thanks to Trent, I probably know more about them than they do. He's constantly reciting facts he learned somewhere.

This obsession is worse than the Hannah one!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today, he had this big bowl of cereal. It was fruit loops, but I would be surprised if he started eating Jonas Flakes or something...that does kinda sound like dandruff though, and I'm not sure even Trent would eat dried pieces of their scalps...but then again, I have underestimated him before.

So anyways, he put a ton of sugar in his cereal. So much sugar that he was literally bouncing off the walls. He tipped over mom's favorite, _really expensive_ lamp, and it broke, which is why she still has _my _phone, and fell on top of the coffee table. Once it wore off, he started telling anyone that would listen,

"I don't feel good. Maybe I have diabetes!!! You know who has diabetes? Nick Jonas!!"

If only he _did _have diabetes. Then we could keep him away from sugar. Or maybe he'd just black out all the time and leave me alone.

It took all of the self-control I had not to kill him. At the moment, I kinda want to commit a triple murder. I never wanted to kill Hannah because of Trent's obsession, so that shows how bad this one is.

Right after I was free to leave the house, I called Hannah - with my mom's phone of course...I still haven't found where she hid mine - and begged her to take me somewhere. Anything to get away from Trent.

We started going to the park, random stores...we even went to this wrestling match once. We were constantly going places together. She seemed to understand why I didn't want to be at home.

One day, we went to this pond in one of the parks in Malibu. We started counting ducks, which was pretty boring, but hey, what else did we have to do? We couldn't run through town naked or anything, people would recognize her. Not...not that I want to see her naked, I just meant that...oh crap, I will never be able to stop embarrassing myself.

Hannah still had the sunglasses, but at the time, she had them on the top of her head. She still had dark circles under her eyes, but they weren't as bad, so she almost had them covered. She had her hair up in a plain pony tail, and it was so different from how she usually wore it, that I almost didn't recognize her.

"I met them once." She told me. We were talking about Trent's Jo Bro obsession.

"Duh, aren't you going on tour with them over the summer?" I asked.

"Oh...yeah...I forgot...how'd you know that?" She asked, making circles in the dirt with her fingers. We were sitting at the edge of the pond, and she had her feet in the water. I thought it looked polluted, so I stayed dry.

"My brother's a dweeb." _That _was true. He couldn't wait for the first concert, he was constantly talking about it. It was his dream come true. Hannah _and _the Jonas Brothers in one place? It was like heaven to him.

Hannah laughed at my choice of words...at least, I _think _that's why she laughed...I could've had mustard on my face or something.

"So have you heard anything from Barney yet?" I asked, nonchalantly as I leaned over to examine my reflection in the pond.

"Oh...yeah, I tried to call you about that."

"My phone's been kidnapped." I told her.

"Oh...well they called me yesterday...we're starting filming again on the 14th."

"Wasn't the 14th like, last week." I asked.

"Of _next month _stupid." She replied, splashing me with what was probably sewer water.

"Oh...yeah, I knew that."

"Of course you did." She looked up at me, smiling.

"Hey, wanna go get a hot dog or something? They have foot longs about a block away." I asked.

"Sure...I guess so." She stood up, shook the water off both of her feet, and slipped them back into her shoes. Her feet I mean, not the water, it'd probably leak out, I mean, she _was _wearing flip-flops.

We started our journey to the hot dog stand, commenting on the weird people we saw on the way there.

I ordered this huge hot dog from this fat guy with ketchup stains on his shirt, and Hannah just ordered a normal sized one. She had her sunglasses on again, so the guy wouldn't recognize her.

We sat down in the grass a few feet away and started eating. While I was about four inches into mine, Hannah was taking the bun off of hers. She saw me looking at her, and explained,

"I'm uh, allergic to bread."

"Really? That would suck...I like bread. It's very...bready."

She rolled her eyes - I could actually tell, she had taken the glasses off again - and held her hot dog to her mouth.

I watched her sink her teeth into the end of it, and this really embarrassing, perverted thought popped in my head, about what she looked like. I'm not even gonna say what it was, I'm sure you can figure it out yourself...and if not...you're lucky. Seriously, I wanna chop my _own _head off with my mom's butcher knife for even thinking it. But I'm thinking that would be extremely hard to do.

So anyways, back to nice, clean, five-year-old appropriate thoughts.

Hannah noticed I was staring. Again. I really need to be less obvious. Maybe I should buy myself some sunglasses. She just gave me a "Why are you staring at me again you perverted freak?" look, and finally started chewing on the piece of hot dog she had had her teeth halfway into for the last minute.

Good, I didn't think what I thought I'd think. Oh great, now I'm thinking it. I am never gonna be able to eat a hot dog again...at least not after I finish this one.

I took another bite and avoided looking at her. She_ wasn't _doing the same thing. I could practically feel her eyes boring holes in the side of my head.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" She asked, the second I turned back to her.

"Like what?" I asked, pretending I had no clue what she was talking about.

She rolled her eyes, again, and took another bite of the hot dog. I closed my eyes.

She took_ forever _to finish eating. I mean, I have _never _met someone who eats slower than that. I think a dead body could chew faster.

So like, ten hours later - I'm exaggerating there- we finally left.

We walked back to my house, which took, forever. Hannah insisted we walk. Apparently her dad was on a date or something. Crazy woman, the guy's scary.

Cause yeah, everybody would refuse to give a world famous pop star a ride. Which now that I think of it, is probably why some of them ended up dead...

"It's only six blocks, Zach." She repeated, once we were about two blocks from my house.

"Yeah, six frickin' _huge _blocks!"

She laughed again, and said nothing until we got to my house. She made a bee line for my closet and started going through it. She hadn't had a chance before.

Hannah started throwing stuff over her shoulder, and I had to duck at least three times, as shirts flew at my head.

About an hour later, she had finished throwing out half of the contents of my closet, and was sitting on my bed. Part of me was glad I'd decided to clean my room.

I sat in my computer chair and stared at her.

"You're always doing that!" She complained, laughing.

"Doing what? I'm not doing anything…just breathing…'cause you know, that's what people do…they breath."

Why was I being such an idiot? I could always talk to Hannah before. Now my sentences weren't coming out right, and I was making myself look even stupider.

"You keep staring at me." She said, getting off my bed. She sat down on the floor at my feet and yawned.

There's this weird thumping going on in my chest…I don't know what it is.

She laid down on the ground, but not before yanking on my foot so hard that I fell off the chair. I was on the ground next to her, and she was laughing.

I sat up and looked at her. She was unable to complain about my staring though, because her phone started ringing. She answered it. It was her dad.

"I have to go." She told me, getting up and grabbing her jacket off my bed.

She reached for the door, and I said, maybe a little too loudly,

"Hannah, wait."

I don't have a clue why I did it, It was like somebody was controlling my brain, or, my mouth…it was completely spontaneous, definitely unplanned…wait a minute that's what spontaneous means…anyways, what I mean to say, is that I think Hannah gave me insane-itus, because I never would've even thought to do it.

I grabbed a hold of her arm and pulled her up next to me. Then…well…I kissed her.

I let go of her arm, and she just said,

"I uh, have to go, my dad's waiting." And she disappeared through my door.

I made a small list in my head, watching her go.

****

Reasons That Hannah Montana Would Leave My Room Without Commenting On the Fact That I JUST KISSED HER!!!

1. I was really bad at it. Great, fifty years from now, she'll be married to some old guy, and all she'll remember about me was what a bad kisser I was.

2. I'm insane and she's scared of me. 

Man am I stupid.

****

Ta-da!!! Well, I know that didn't happen the first time I wrote this, but I like it better the way I'm writing this now, so yeah…REVIEW!!!! 


	9. Chapter Nine

**_Snow day!!! Again...we only got like, maybe 6 inches yesterday, but the snow drifts are so bad they'd probably go up to my armpits if I stood in them. I'm pretty much snowed in..._**

**_Disclaimer: When I actually own any of this stuff...I'll let you know...I'll write a letter with my third arm._**

By the time October 14th came around, I was bored out of my mind. I was pretty sure I'd be insane by the time we started filming...then they'd have to replace me...which would suck.

Let's see, what happened in those three weeks when I wanted to kill myself.

**1.** Hannah didn't call and/or return my calls. I think she hates me.

**2. **I almost had a heart attack. I've got to explain this one.

So I was watching TV while my mom was cooking...er..._trying to cook _dinner. She finally finished without burning down the house or causing us all to die from carbon monoxide poisoning or something...and told me to go get my brother. I usually try my best to stay out of my brother's room. Something I'm guessing he doesn't really understand, since he's _always _trespassing on me.

Anyways, I hadn't been in there for at least four months, so I hadn't got a chance to check out his newly..._remodeled..._bedroom. I opened the door to tell him to either come downstairs or starve to death, and I just about had a heart attack. The Jonas Brothers were staring down at me from every single flat surface in the room. I don't know when he got the bedspread, or how on earth he got like, a zillion cardboard cutouts of them, but it sure freaked me out. There was this huge white poster over his bed, with the three of them standing there, looking all...serious...and at the top in gigantic letters, it said "Look Me in the Eyes" They were all wearing these insanely dark sunglasses though, so I didn't really get how that was possible. **:) lol** I eventually remembered how to talk, and told Trent dinner was ready.

I had nightmares for weeks after that...I'm wearing a blindfold next time.

Oh! Back to the list.

**3**. I finally got my phone back. Apparently it kept ringing, and mom couldn't figure out how to turn it off, so I guess she just gave it back before it drove her completely mad.

**4**. Ummm...I sat around and did nothing.

So by the time we got back to filming, I was about to pull my hair out. I didn't though, which was good, because I would look really bad if I was bald.

On October 14th, which was like, four months after we filmed the pilot...which kinda shows how crappy the show is...I got to the studio. On time. It was amazing, I threw myself a little party and invited no one.

I figured out what was missing right away though. Hannah was no where to be seen. So either she's invisible now, or she's not here. Great...this is gonna be like being blind...I'll never know if I'm talking to her, or a wall.

I'm not planning on asking anyone where she is...I don't want people to think I'm obsessed with her. Cause I'm _so_ not.

We didn't really get much done without her. We redid a couple scenes from the pilot that The BW didn't really like. It was a pretty good idea...I think maybe a raccoon wrote those scenes. Besides that, the show wasn't really turning out that bad.

Even though I'm the main character, there are hardly any scenes focusing on me. There are about five scenes without Hannah, and one of them was just the parents.

My boredom continued.

At home, I did nothing. Again. I ate some left-over pork chops. I wasn't sure if they were burnt, or freezer burnt, but either way they tasted bad.

I went to bed, where Joe, Nick, and Kevin haunted my nightmares again. This time with flaming torches and some _really _sharp spears.

I woke up in the morning, got dressed, ate some stale Fruit Loops, and brushed my teeth.

Yeah I know, I'm boring. It's not like I can help it.

My dad drove me to the studio, telling me some stupid, probably made-up, story about these Mexican-Chinese people he went to school with. I'd like to see a Mexican-Chinese person. What would you call them...Mexinese...Chexican?

Anyways, I got there like, ten minutes late. Barney was mad. Again.

But before he could suck in enough air to yell at me, some small and blonde tackled me.

"Zach! Zach Zach, guess what...guess who's dying in the season finale of CSI!!"

Hannah let go of me, and when I could see again, I stupidly mumbled "Randy Jackson?"

I was dizzy!! Ok?

"No, stupid, me. I get to murder someone_ and_ die, all in the same episode! Isn't that great?" She asked excitedly, as she drug me by the arm all the way to her dressing room.

"Uh...is this a trick question?"

She rolled her eyes and sat down in the fluffy pink chair she had moved to the opposite side of the room.

I just stood in the doorway. She was acting weird again. She probably spent yesterday snorting cotton candy or something.

"Hey...Zach?" She asked. She was calm again. Talk about Jekyl and Hyde...I'm not so sure which one is the doctor, so I usually jut refer to them by their last names.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Ummm...about the other day..."

"What other day?" I asked. I couldn't figure out what she was talking about.

She looked at me like I was crazy and I remembered.

"Oh!!...Well, that wasn't technically _the other day _I mean, it was like, a month ago." I said...which was pretty stupid.

"Yeah, well, about that...I'm sorry if I came off as sort of...mean, I guess that's what I'm trying to say. I just...well, my life's just kinda complicated..."

"Oh..yeah, I understand...complicated's not good for me, too much stuff confuses me. I'm really bad at multi-tasking."

She smiled and rubbed her eye.

"So we're ok?" She asked, yawning.

"Yeah, sure we are."

Nobody said anything for a minute, so I asked,

"So where were you yesterday?"

"I've been getting over the flu...I meant to call in...but I lost my phone a while ago, and I didn't really wanna get off the couch long enough to get the home phone." She laughed, and looked over at her purse, which was on the table. Her phone was sticking out of it.

"Oh my god. It's been in there the whole time." She leaned back in her chair and looked into the mirror again. She pulled on a piece of her hair and said,

"I should probably start getting ready. We've got a lot to do."

"Yeah...I'll see you in a while." I said, before leaving the room. I almost ran into Mikayla on my way out, and she just about dropped the bowl of most-likely stale, peanuts she was holding. She threw one at the back of my head as I walked away.

In a couple hours, we were on set, going over our lines while they moved the camera.

Joe and Denise were standing next to the couch, looking at Hannah and me like we were crazy..which...we probably are.

"Ok, so I'm supposed to be standing on the left side of the couch." Hannah said. She was on the right. She moved to the other side and looked down at her script again.

"Ok..."

Once they finally got the cameras ready, we started the next scene.

Denise cleared her throat and said,

"What did you _do_ to get a detention from Greenwood?" She asked.

"Yeah, he's been there forever. When I had him, he'd let kids smoke, as long as they sat in the back row." Joe said, smiling.

"That was just you, honey." Denise replied, patting him on the shoulder.

"He still let me do it...I mean...Smoking is bad for you! It turns your lungs black...and kills them...oh yeah, it's really bad." He lectured, pointing his finger at us.

"I didn't do anything. He just hates me." Hannah told them, as she sat down on the couch.

From my position behind the couch, I cleared my throat loudly. I leaned over the back of it, and said,

"In her quest to get pregnant before homecoming, she probably knocked over that golf trophy Mr. Greenwood has on his desk."

"It's not even his, why does he still have it?" Joe wondered out loud.

Hannah glared at me and cracked me over the head with a book, a little harder than was necessary.

"Ow!! You hit me with a book!" I exclaimed.

"No I didn't." She told me, like I was insane

"Yes you did!" I argued. Joe and Denise were on their way out of the room.

Hannah got up and walking into the kitchen. She opened the microwave and reached in. We usually kept our scripts in the microwave, in case we forgot our lines while filming. I don't know why she went in there though, she usually kept hers under the couch.

Everybody was staring at her, and the camera was still rolling.

"I lost this page." She explained, flipping through it.

"Oh...that's right." She returned the script and came back into the room.

"Alright...action." Barney said, once they had the camera ready again. Somehow, somebody got cheese on the lens. He never said cut though...

"You may be smart enough to work for the CIA, but you're about as mature as a four-year-old." She said, rolling her eyes.

I stuck out my tongue and made this really weird noise that I didn't even know I could make.

She stared at me, and blinked, before saying.

"At you're funeral - since you are _so_ dying before me - when I'm supposed to say something about you...that's the story I'm gonna tell."

"Like _I'll_ die before _you. _I bet you ten bucks you'll have a life threatening STD by the time you're twenty-five."

"Ten bucks?" She asked.

"That's all I have right now, and I don't want to be bankrupt before I turn thirty." I explained.

"CUT!!!!" Barney screamed.

He hit the camera guy with a rolled up newspaper, and stepped onto the set.

"Everybody but Hannah and Jack...good job."

"What'd I do?" I asked. As far as I knew, I remembered all my lines. I don't think it was me that put the cheese on the lens.

"Nothing. I just don't like you." He explained.

"Thanks..." I mumbled, before heading off set to get something to eat.

Hannah followed me, making these weird angry grunting noises.

"What?" I asked.

"She's driving me insane!" She shrieked.

"Who?"

"_The devil._"

I knew who she meant, but hadn't noticed Mikayla doing anything.

I started getting my lunch together, and Hannah followed me through the line, taking nothing, but telling me every mean think Mikayla had said in the last three hours.

"I mean, I _so _do not look like a goat!" She ended, sitting down next to me with a loud "Hmmph!"

After lunch, while Barney searched for the cheese bandit, we sat in Hannah's dressing room. Even Zombie Breath was there. I don't know why. None of _us _like him.

Hannah had been sitting in her fluffy pink chair, eating a banana Jake had forced into her hands, after she said she felt lightheaded. That was an hour ago, and she was only halfway through it. Man she eats slow.

Suddenly, we heard laughing in the general direction of the door.

"You couldn't even remember you're lines? Wow, someone's got the IQ of an empty peanut shell...speaking of peanuts...looks like someone's had a few too many." She replied, making herself at home on top of Hannah's table.

I'm pretty sure Mikayla's got vision problems...and maybe hearing problems...and probably brain problems too.

Anyways, at this last comment, Hannah lept out of her chair and punched Mikayla. Right in the face.

Then, she fainted. Lucky for her, I was standing right behind her, and actually caught something for once in my life.

**_Ah just a little note...I don't mean to insult mexican or chinese or...Chexican people or whatever...or people with brain problems...but if you have brain problems...you probably shouldn't be on a computer...so if you get mad that easily and was offended...I'm sorry..._**


	10. Chapter Ten

**_dun dun dun...don't know why I said that...that was weird...anyways, i actually made myself do this...I've been stuck on my parodies for a while... oh, just to clear things up, Joe and Denise are not based on real people...they are completely fake, as in, I made them up. I just chose two random names, for the people that play Zach's tv mom and dad._**

**_Disclaimer: ok so I was watching the Dr. Miley _****3 armed 5 fingered, 5 toed, drug addicted, Crohn's disease infected, murdering, dictating, wig wearing, psychiatrist with the anger managment problem Cyrus Show, and she used her eyes to shoot out these lasers, and she brainwashed me, so I totally forgot that I owned Hannah Montana, so I gave it to a hobo with a spork...too bad. **

**_

* * *

_**

Ok, so where were we...OH RIGHT! I was standing in Hannah Montana's dressing room, and she had just punched the evilest girl in the world in the face, before passing out and falling into my arms. That sounds about right.

Normally I would've enjoyed this, minus the her being unconscious part, but Zombie Breath was freaking out, and I was just staring at Hannah like I had accidentally picked up a pile of dog poop instead.

"Ah! Oh my god! Jesus, Mary and the Pope!" Jake started screaming. He continued with a string of religion-based curses, while I set Hannah down on the ground. I didn't know where else to put her, and I was afraid that if I tried to put her in the fluffy pink chair, I'd break her leg or something. She'd definately hate me for that. She'd probably stab me. With a spork. Then she'd use it to scoop out my insides, sprinkle cheese on it, and eat it for lunch, because, you know, she's definately a cannibal.

Fortunately, I lowered her to the ground without endagering myself. Jake on the other hand, was about to be injured. He was starting to get on my nerves, as he yelled "Son of the world's fattest preist wearing a bandana and while fighting off vampires!"

Never heard _that one_ before.

"Jake, shut up!" I yelled.

He stopped, swallowed, and tried to look all macho again. It didn't work.

"Go get her some water." I ordered. I hope I sounded like I knew what to do, because I _so _did not.

He left the room, and I tried to wake Hannah up. I think you're supposed to wake unconsious people gently. No wait, that's sleepwalkers.

"Hannah?" I whispered, while tilting her head back and forth.

That's not gonna work, stupid idea.

"Hannah!" I said even louder, pulling her up and leaning her against the wall. She made some sort of weird noise that sounded like a pig trying to swim through quicksand. Just then, Jake came back with the water. Hannah made the pig noise again, and I kept saying her name, but she still didn't wake up.

"Hannah? Hannah. Hannah!" I kept repeating. I tried to pour the water down her throat, but it kept leaking out, so I decided, What the heck?, and tossed it in her face.

"Zach!" She complained, opening her eyes.

Jake sighed and sat down in the pink fluffy chair, contaminating it to the point where I never wanted to sit in it again.

Just then, Barney came into the room.

"Oh, good, you're not dead. I definately did not have the time to replace you." He said. How comforting. At least he wasn't angry about the the fact that Hannah had probably just broke Mikayla's nose. I think I heard something crack...one can only hope.

I moved so that my back was against the wall and looked at Hannah out of the corner of my eye. She looked kind of angry.

"I have low blood pressure," She explained, "So sometime if I move too fast, that happens."

The only concert of hers I had ever been to, which was probably back when I was about 13 - I had been forced to accompany my brother - replayed in my head. All that dancing...she didn't pass out then.

"Umm, I'll go get you something to eat..." Jake offered.

I looked at her again. She was avoiding making eye contact with me. It didn't matter though, because when Zombie Breath came back with an apple and some more water, she quickly ate, got up, made some excuse about discussing scheduling with Barney, and left.

Seeing as I was now in a girl's room with Jake Ryan, I left too. For home.

I got a call later that night. It was Barney. Somehow, he had remembered to call me. I thought it was weird, because he was the director, and had much better things to do than call people. Well, not better...mainly yelling and complaining.

He told me that from then on, we would be filming on Fridays from 10 am to 10 pm, on Saturdays from 7am to 9pm, and if we needed more time, we would use sundays. He also told me that Hannah wouldn't be there until 4 on Fridays, so we would film all the other scenes during that time, and redo that ones that I had quote, "stunk up" unquote.

I hung up and tried to figure out what Hannah had to do every week that would cause her to be late every friday.

**_Reasons Hannah Montana Will Be Late Every Friday_**

**1. **She runs a small country in the Caribbean and every Friday she has to help vote on laws and stuff.

**2.** She has weekly appointments with a psychiatrist, to help keep her insanity under control, and they so happen to be on Fridays.

**3.** She uses Fridays to stay at home and salt everything she puts in her mouth, so as to raise her blood pressure, so that she doesn't pas out into my arms again, because I disgust her. I sure hope this isn't the reason.

**4. **School maybe? Maybe she like, puts on an orange wig and goes to school telling everyone, in a spanish accent, that her name is Judy Ruckmussin.

**5.** She locks herself in the bathroom at McDonalds on Fridays as a way to protest the use of processed meat in fast-food restaurants.

I could go on and on, but my ideas are getting even less believeable by the second.

So that night, I stayed up really late, watching my dad's entire collection of CSI dvds. He only has like, 3, but you know how long those things are.

I went to bed just as my mom was waking up. How terrible, I got to miss her usual morning cheerfulness. Don't I feel bad.

I had a weird dream -probably due to all the cookies I was eating while watching tv - where the Hannah barbie doll that my brother has in the back of his closet - He doesn't know I know about that - was chasing me around in this ugly pink dress - that looked like it got caught in a paper schredder - with a baseball bat, screaming, "Go to the prom with me or else!" Then this huge purple tiger fell out of the sky and landed on her. It ate her and then_ it _was chasing me around in the pink dress with the baseball bat, screaming, in English, - Steal me a spork from Taco Bell or I'll eat you!". I told him I didn't know where Taco Bell was, so he pushed me off a cliff.

It was pretty weird. But luckily I woke up before I hit the bottom.

It was like, almost dinner time when I woke up, and I was starving, so I went downstairs, to find my mom attempting to make tacos. And by "attempting" I mean...attempting. They looked kinda...green. Ick.

"Zach! You're finally awake! Sweety I haven't seen you all day!" She exclaimed with the biggest smile I had ever seen, plastered on her face.

I looked at her weird and decided either there was something seriously wrong with her, or she needed me to do something, so I asked,

"What are you gonna force me to do?"

She picked up this huge hunk of cheese and handed me the cheese grater.

"Here." She said, the huge smile disappearing.

Just then, Trent came in, still wearing his Hannah Montana pajamas. It was a weird sight, and brought up memories of my nightmare. Luckily, there were no tigers in sight, purple or normal colored.

Trent grabbed a handful of licorice, sat down on a bar stool next to me, and watched as I grated the cheese.

"Did you know they make this stuff out of those kids that die at Walmart?" I asked him, playing around.

"What?" He asked, "I don't believe you."

"Yeah, didn't you know? They rig the bike racks so that when a kid walks under them, a bike falls on him, and if that doesn't kill him, they stick his head in the toilet and drown him." I explained, trying to look serious.

Trent looked disgusted.

"They do not!" He said, but I could tell he believed me.

"They do, seriously! After they kill him, they take him to the back room, where they vote on whether he should be made into cheese or cocaine."

"Nuh uh!" He said, sounding scared. What an idiot. He's 12, doesn't he have enough common sense to know I'm just playing around?

"They usually choose cheese, because coccaine is illegal, and more people like cheese. So they stick him in this machine, where they drain all the blood out of him, because nobody likes red cheese, and they mix him up until they get this." I held up the block of cheese, and his eyes got huge.

"Mom. I don't want cheese on mine." He announced.

"Yes you do! You love cheese!" She said, turning to look at him.

"But it doesn't love him." Dad said, smiling, while ruffling his hair. Cheese does tend to give him a gas problem.

"But I don't want to be a cannibal!" he yelled. Both of my parents looked at me. I pushed the cheese away, and said,

"It wasn't me!"

They didn't believe me. I'm grounded again. _And _ I didn't get any cheese.

So after I was nearly bored to death _again, _it was finally Friday. Which meant...work. At least I got to leave the house.

Just like every other time, I was late because of one of my parents, this time, my mom. I can't wait until I get my liscense. Just two more months baby!

So anyways, we redid the "sucky" scenes, and filmed the _two _scenes I had without Hannah. But before I knew it, it was four o'clock. Shows how many scenes Barney thought stunk. I hope I'm not as bad an actor as he says I am. Well, actually it just shows how long it takes them to do my hair. Mikayla took longer. They had to cover this huge bruise, so they practically caked on a whole container of concealer. You could still see it. I laughed silently to myself.

Unfortunately, one of the scenes I had without Hannah, was one with Mikayla. She did play my girlfriend after all.

They pretty much murdered me after we finished up. They told me that in the next scene I had to kiss Mikayla. I guess I must've skipped that page.

The first thing I thought was "Why would we have to wait for Hannah to get here to do that?

The second thing, "Oh god! Why must they torture me! I wish _my _nose was broken. Well...not really.

When Hannah showed, up, about ten minutes late, I explained everything that had happened that day to her. She just stood in front of one of the many new mirrors in her dressing room, and kept pulling on her hair, like she was trying to move her entire scalp.

She started laughing as I explained the kissing part.

"Be sure to bump noses." She said, smiling.

While she messed with her hair, I read the page in my script that I had missed. I found out why Hannah had to be ther for it. She was supposed to barge in on us, and use what she saw as blackmail for the rest of the season. Sounds a lot like her...

So we started filming, and while the cameraman adjusted the camera, Mikayla whispered a stream of death threats if I so much as blew on her nose.

I decided_ not _to bump noses. Bad idea Hannah., you can do it...well, that would be weird to watch, and I highly doubt they'd put it on tv, this is supposed to be a show for kids aged 10-16, plus, I'm pretty sure Hannah would rather kill herself. Heck, _I _would rather kill myself, but Hannah is more famous than I, so I was forced to follow through.

It was over surprisingly quick. Her lips felt like sandpaper though, and I could practically taste what must have been a bean burrito.

We finished up early, so at about 7:30 pm, Hannah and I were in her dresing room, talking. Hannah was sitting in the pink fluffy chair, I was on the floor. I'm never sitting in that chair again. I'm serious.

We were discussing which was better, the banana, or dandruff shampoo. I said the banana, because, if you're starving, I doubt you'd want to eat dandruff shampoo. Hannah said that since dandruff is actually fungus, too much of it could make you sick, and you wouldn't be able to eat anyways. Guess who won.

While she was cheering herself, Barney came in with a video camera.

"Guess who the BW wants to record behind the scenes footage to put on the website!" He said, trying to sound cheerful and depressed at the same time. It was actually working. He handed me the camera and said,

"Just don't go in the bathroom with it...nobody wants to see that."

How stupid does he think I am?

"Turn it on." Hannah insisted. I did as she told me.

"Wait, why do I have to be the camera guy?" I asked, asthe word "recording" flashed on the screen.

"Because nobody know who you are, and I'm prettier." She answered, laughing.

"That you are." I agreed, nodding.

"Quit moving, all you're filming is my feet." She complained.

"Whatever." I said, as I held the camera still.

"Hello people of earth." Hannah said, still shaking with laughter.

"People of earth with computers." I corrected.

"Yeah, what he said."

She moved in her chair, and said,

"I'm Hannah Montana, and this is-"

"Zach Dykstra, Cameraman extrordinaire!" I said, turning the camera on myself.

Hannah reached for the camera and turned it back on her.

"And you are on the set of SuperSpy."

"Is that still what it's called?" I asked.

"I don't know, do I look like the director to you?" She replied, smiling.

"Well...he does kinda look like a girl...if you don't notice the baldness."

"Ok, we're gonna edit that out, you don't want to get fired." She said.

"Ummm...ok, so the shows about this kid, and he's like...a super genius or something...and the CIA recruits him, so he's...a spy I guess..." She explained.

"Yeah, what she said." I added.

"Umm, let's see, oh!" She grabbed the camera from meand starting moving around the room.

"This is my dressing room...my mirror...my fluffy pink chair, it is so soft, you do not even know...ummm...my carpet...my-"

"Incredibly handsome co-star." I interrupted again.

"Sure you are..." She said.

"Well," She cleared her throat, " You have learned almost nothing...hope you're happy...bye!" We both waved into the camera, and she shut it off.

"We are gonna have so much fun with this." I said. Little did I know, I was actually right for once.

**_dun dun dun...this actually makes sense here...well I'm gonna go eat tacos...with walmart kid hannah montana cheese...I'm such a cannibal lol...I think I'll stop putting my "inside jokes" in here... _**


	11. Chapter Eleven

_**I changed the summary...is it better? Does is interest you? Hopefully it does. If you're only here to read my **awesome **author's notes...thanks for clicking anyways...you did more than most people. Oh...also, if I say something and it makes no sense at all...it's most likely one of my stupid inside jokes and it makes perfect sense that you don't understand...but if you do understand...**_stalker.

**_Disclaimer: That hobo just refuses to give me back my tv show!! Fortunately, I didn't give him the plot of this story or Zach...that would be bad._**

**_

* * *

_**

Since everything between Saturday and Friday is pretty much boring, I think I'm gonna skip it. I wanna keep your attention.

Wait...I think I lost it...No, there it is!!!

So the next Friday, we had finished up filming my scenes and stuff, and I was sitting in my dressing room with the infamous video camera. Wait...it's not infamous yet...that'll have to wait. I'm getting ahead of myself.

I wasn't filming anything, I was just holding it. I was bored...obviously...I was spinning a video camera around in my hands...so anyways, I'm just sitting there, when this guy with these extremely dark sunglasses appeared in the doorway.

No, it was _not _Hannah's brother. Even though he's the only other guy I know of that wears such dark sunglasses inside. I'm not so sure what happened to her brother though...or Lola for that matter...maybe Hannah murdered them, and this guy is a detective here to question me about my involvement.

I didn't do it, officer.

He had this shaggy brown hair - in my opinion, he could do well with a haircut - that was covered with a hat, and he was wearing this green shirt with a Christmas present on it. The tag said something, but I couldn't read it. He had on this huge gray jacket over it, and some brown pants. He looked like his outfit was eating him.

He moved over, and Hannah passed by him without bothering to say excuse me.

"Hey, Zach...this is my friend Mike..." She informed me, motioning to Mike with her hands, Vanna White-like.

"Stanley." Mike Stanley added, after Hannah shot him a questioning look.

"...The third." Hannah added. She looked as if she had just remembered something important. I hope it was to take her pills.

"Hey, what's up?" Mike Stanley the third asked me, tipping his hat. Hannah looked at him weird and his hand went back down to his side.

"Don't embarrass me." She said, staring at him.

"_What? _You think _I _embarrass you? Psh, ha, I'm so cool, people are embarrassed to look at me." He said, swinging his arms back and forth.

"That makes no sense at all. I'm gonna go talk to the director..._don't touch anything._" Hannah warned him, before leaving the room.

Great, Hannah left me here to baby-sit her weird friend.

"I'm Zach." I told him.

"Mike...Stanley...the third." He replied, swinging his arms again.

"You already said that."

"Oh, right...I think I have short term memory loss." He explained, sitting down on the small couch I had in the corner.

"Me too, I'm always forgetting things. It makes my mom pretty mad." I said.

"Yeah, I know what ya mean, my mom's a cop...you do not even know how many times she's threatened to arrest me for forgetting to do the laundry or something."

Well, dude, I'm not surprised I don't know. I just met you.

"She's a cop? Does she get to beat people with that stick thing?" I asked, starting to get interested.

"I don't know! I keep asking her about that, but she refused to tell me...I'm guessing she does, and doesn't want to be a "bad example". She just got promoted though, so they took it away. I asked her if I could have it but she said no. She did give me her handcuffs though...it didn't turn out well."

"Why's that?" I asked, and he launched into this really long story about how he had handcuffed Hannah and Lola together and lost the key, right before this big award show.

Wow...I don't know what I'd do if I was handcuffed to Lola. Probably ask her to beat me until I was unconscious. I'm sure she'd do it too.

"Hey dude, wheres the food? I'm starved." Mike said, getting up. I finally read his shirt. It said something like this:

To: Women

From: God

Very funny, isn't it (That would be sarcasm) I'm not so sure any girl would want him for Christmas. Especially when you can't even find him in that pile of clothing.

On the way there, I noticed Hannah staring at Mikayla from across the room. She looked like she was ready to start filming. I don't know how she finishes so quickly, she has at least ten times more hair than me, and she has to put on all that makeup and stuff.

So while Hannah was admiring her work, and Mike was stuffing his face, I went back to my dressing room to get the video camera. I snuck up behind Hannah with it and turned it on.

"Boo!!!" I yelled. She screamed. Really, really loud.

"Zach! You stupid son of a-" She noticed she was on camera.

"Uh...hi!" She waved, and pushed the camera down. I started filming my toes, while she whispered,

"Don't sneak up on me like that, do you want a nose to match Mikayla's?"

"No ma'm." I answered, before lifting the camera back up.

"Hello again. Either you own a computer, live near somewhere that has one, or you're a thief and stole one from a hobo!" Hannah cried into the camera.

"I don't think hobos can afford computers." I said.

"Who cares. Anyways, you are on the set of SuperSpy. Again. Unless this is your first time watching...If that's true, I don't wanna know what possessed you to watch these out of order, but whatever."

She straightened her hair, cleared her throat, and moved out of the way.

"So this is the actual set, where we film the episodes. Today we're filming the episode where Andy, the super genius spy kid, has to hide his CIA assignments from his girlfriend, played by the_...lovely_" I could see her practically choking on her words, "Mikayla."

I zoomed in on Mikayla, who waved and gave me a dirty look. Back to Hannah.

"Go like, show them the couch and stuff." She said, before going off in a different direction.

"Ok...so it's just you and me now...well, technically it's just me and this video camera, but you get the idea."

I headed to the set, and Mike called out, with his mouth full of food,

"Hey dude, where's the bathroom in this place!!"

"You can probably tell we're gonna have a fun time filming this..."

So about five and a half months later, (yeah I know, but I don't feel like telling you every boring aspect of my life, ok?) Hannah and I are sitting on my couch, waiting for the premiere of our show. Yeah it took forever, the people at the BW said that three months of commercials is good for publicity. I think it makes it more boring...and annoying. If I have to listen to myself say "The CIA wants to recruit _me? _No way!!!" again, I think I'll commit suicide.

Back to the tv. Trent of course, is standing in front of it with his jaw down to the ground.

"Move it butt face, we're trying to watch tv!" I yelled at him. I could tell he was starting to freak Hannah out. Scratch that, he freaked her out the second she walked in the door. He ran down the stairs and screamed at her,

"OH MY GOD YOU'RE HANNAH MONTANA!!!!!!!!"

As if she didn't already know that.

An announcer said something about the show, so I got up and pushed Trent. He just fell over and stayed there.

We started watching the show, and by the time the first commercial rolled around, Trent was still on the ground.

"Is he gonna be ok?" Hannah asked.

"Oh yeah, he does this a lot." I told her.

We finished watching the show, and discussed our horrible(in our opinions) acting skills, for about an hour before Hannah got up to leave.

"That was fun." She told me, as we stood in the driveway.

"Yeah, it was." I replied. I have conversation problems, ok? Sometimes I think I'd be better off as a mime.

Hannah's dad pulled up, and she started to walk away.

"Hey, Hannah, I'm thinking of having a pool party sometime soon, if the show does good...would you wanna come...once you know when it is I mean...if I'm even having it." I asked as fast as I could. I suddenly feared she hadn't understood me and I'd have to repeat it all

"Yeah, sure we can throw it together. I can invite all the people, take care of the food and everything...and you can make sure there's water in the pool." She smirked at me and started walking backwords.

"We'll talk about this later...I'll see you Tuesday on Regis and Kelly." I told her, trying to sound casual. Like I did this all the time. Even though I totally _do not._

"Excited are you?" She asked. Her dad honked the horn, and she held up a finger.

"Yes...well...goodbye."

"Yeah, see you." She waved and turned around.

She climbed into the car and they left. I of course, went inside, put on my pajamas like a little kid, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.

Skip to Tuesday. The most exciting thing that happened in the past week, was that I ran out of toothpaste and burnt some cookies. Yeah, I bake when I'm bored. What's the big problem?

I get to the studio that morning, _on time_. I can drive now. It's awesome. Like me. Ha.

The first thing I see when I get there, is Lola. She and Hannah are standing around with the soon to be infamous video camera, filming each other.

"Hey! Zach!" Hannah yells, waving at me. I'm pretty sure whenever she hangs out with Lola, they like, smoke Laffy Taffy in the bathroom or something...I bet if I went in there, it'd smell fruity. It's a girls bathroom though, so I am definately not going in _there_. Hannah's pretty excited. I'm sure that's the reason. (The Laffy Taffy, not the bathroom) Well, so am I, but this is my first time, not hers.

"I brought the camera, Barney said something about filming backstage at stuff like this. Publicity you know." She told me, waving the camera at me.

"Oh, ok." I said, not-so-enthusiastically. I was the one that had to edit this stuff and put it on the website...I don't have a clue why some other guy doesn't have this job. It sucks.

"Hey we better go get ready." She said, turning off the camera and leading me to the hair and makeup rooms. She went into hers, and I was yanked into mine, by this woman with this huge mole on her chin. Yeah lady, like I'm gonna trust you with my hair, when you can't even do anything with all the stuff growing out of that mole. Disgusting. I seriously wanna puke, just looking at it.

That's it, closing my eyes now.

Ok, so next, we went out on stage and sat in these really uncomfortable chairs. Regis stepped on my foot, and kept calling my Jack, like Barney _still _does, but besides that, it was pretty awesome. So awesome, in fact, that I'm not gonna tell you about it. It'd take forever. I tend to go on and on when I'm excited, and I don't want to put you to sleep.

Afterwords though, that's the interesting part. That's what the point of all this is...I think.

So after the show, we head back to the hair and makeup rooms to change into some more...comfortable clothes. I swear that shirt was made of steel wool! I think it sparked. I could've caught fire. I finished way before Hannah of course, she takes forever to change clothes when they aren't picked out for her...I don't know why, nobody cares what outfit she leaves these places in. I'm sure hundreds of guys would prefer she just take it the easy way and wear her birthday suit. Not that I'm one of them...I am _so _not one of them. Seriously...not that it'd be bad...NO!!! Shutting up now. Seriously. I really am.

S

O

""""

N

O

T

""""

T

A

L

K

I

N

G

Anyways, I left the room, and could hear Hannah and Lola arguing in Hannah's little fitting room place...thing...whatever. I grabbed my stuff and was about to leave, when Hannah burst out of the room, still wearing the dress she had been wearing on the show, but with her hair completely messed up. It looked like it had fell out and she had tried to glue it back on.

She handed me the video camera, mumbled goodbye, and went back into the room, before kicking Lola out and proceeding to make all kinds of angry noises. I decided not to ask what was wrong, since last time I did that...she actually told me. It was horrible.

I looked down at the camera, and noticed it was still recording. I shut it off and left the studio, wondering what I would learn from it.

Oh believe me, I learned a lot.

**_Wow, this was a short chapter...and it was rushed...but if I didn't rush through this, this story would end up being extremely long, and I don't need that...and neither do you...it'd be boring...but anyway, I apologize for how bad this chapter was...the next one will be more exciting...less funny, but more exciting._**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**_omg, Elmo's making death threats!!! Look it up on youtube. I'm dead serious lol...Alright, I've been kinda...not in the mood, lately...but I decided I should work on this...so...if it sucks...which, it probably will...I'm sorry.

* * *

_**

So I'm sitting in my room, at my computer, right? Well, you don't really know that for sure, and I can't really prove it, so you'll just have to trust me on that, because I am definitely telling the truth.

So I'm sitting at my computer, with the soon to be infamous video camera in my hands, while the computer starts up. It eventually does start up, after what seems like five thousand years, so I connect the camera. While that's connecting, I think about stuff. Yeah. _Stuff._

**Things I Think About While Waiting For The Camera To Connect**

**1. **How stupid it is that I have to do this. Seriously, how many people work on the set? Do none of them know how to work a computer? This is television people, why are you sticking _me_ with this stupid job?

**2**. How hungry I am. I didn't eat lunch, ok? I kinda want something cheesy. Or salty. Anything really, I'm starved.

**3**. How much I want to smash that stupid radio that Trent's got the volume turned all the way up on!!!! If I have to listen to SOS loud enough that people on Mars can hear it, one more time, somebody's gonna get hurt!

**4**. How slow my computer is.

Finally, it connects, and I copy the video onto my computer. I disconnect the video camera and open the video file. I sit back in my chair and start watching, wondering what I'm gonna see today. I plug some headphones into my computer, since there is no way I'll be able to hear anything with the radio on so loud

It's mostly just the same stuff as usual, but I notice that when what we recorded is over, it's only maybe a third of the way into the video. I turn up the volume and watch closely. All I can see is some grey carpet. It's moving around, so I'm guessing either my camera grew legs and ran away, or somebody's carrying the camera, unaware that it's still recording. I'm gonna go with the latter.

I start getting dizzy, so I lean back a little. Eventually, the person holding the camera, Hannah, sets it down on something. I think it's a table. The camera's turned on it's side, so I have to turn my head to see what's going on. I can see Hannah and Lola standing off to the side, going through a bag of what I'm guessing is clothes. This goes on forever, so I kinda zone out. Eventually they start talking.

"What about this one?" Lola asks, holding up an outfit. I'm a guy, so of course, I paid no attention to what it looked like, in case you were wondering.

"No...that makes me look fat." Hannah replied, not even looking at it.

"Miley...a fat suit couldn't make you look fat." Lola told her, setting it down on the table.

"Whatever." Hannah replied, somewhat rudely.

"What about _this _one?" Lola asked, holding up another outfit. Again, I didn't look at it. Duh.

"No, Lilly." She said, again, without looking.

Wait...Lilly? I thought her name was Lola...whatever. Anyways, she kept going through the bag. Hannah held up an outfit and asked,

"What about this one?"

"It's cute. I like that one." Lola answered, searching though _her_ bag. She was probably looking for something sugary she could get high on.

"Easy for you to say, it'd look good on _you_." Hannah suddenly said, sounding sort of angry.

"Ooh, must be somebody's _time of the month_." Lola whispered, smiling.

Ok, so normally, this kind of conversation kinda disgusts me, but I was sure whatever they'd been fighting about was on here, and I wanted to know what it was. So I suffered. I kinda felt guilty for spying though. But I got through it.

"No, for your information, it is not. It hasn't been for a while." Hannah said quietly, grabbing a shirt off the floor and matching it up with some pants she'd pulled out of the bag.

"Why? Miley you're not...you're not _pregnant _are you?" Lola suddenly asked.

Alright seriously, do they have to talk about this stuff? Can't they just tackle each other and shout out why exactly they're mad at each other out for everybody to hear? It'd be a whole lot easier. And what is up with the weird names? Don't they ever call each other by their real names?

"No, Lilly, I'm not. That would be impossible. I'm just stressed, ok? I've got a lot going on, alright? And this stupid wig is making it worse!" She shouted.

Wait...wig? What? What the heck is she talking about?

I looked more closely and watched as she scratched her head. She leaned over, picked at a couple spots, and pulled all her hair off. No, seriously. She pulled it _all _off. She tossed her hair at the wall and ran her fingers through her real hair. Well, I'm assuming it was real. I mean, why would anybody wear more than one wig?

Her real hair was about six inches longer than the blonde, and was brown and wavy. Personally, I liked it better this way. I paused the video and sat there for a minute. I didn't really understand why she didn't just dye her hair. What was the point in wearing a wig...Unless...Hannah Montana isn't a real person.

That is it. I just cracked this case wide open. I figured it out. I am a genius. Or just a lucky guesser. Or possibly, anybody with half a brain could figure this out.

**Things I Learned About Hannah Montana From The Video Camera**

**1. **She wears a wig. So either she's got Multiple Personality Disorder...or she's not _actually _Hannah Montana.

**2. **Hannah Montana is a stupid name. I knew this a long time ago, but I felt it fit here. But seriously. It rhymes. What's up with that? No parent would torture their child like that. I mean, some rhyming names aren't actually that bad...but _Hannah Montana_? Not even my parents tortured me like that! Zachary Dykstra. See? No Rhyming. _So _far from rhyming. I don't think anything really rhymes with Dykstra though, so maybe that's why I got a normal name. But I thought _my _parents were bad. Seriously. What a stupid name. Anyways, I'm pretty sure whatever it was that Lola called her...I think it was _Miley _...is her real name.

**3.** Lola's real name is Lilly...I think.

I sat in my chair, trying to think of why she'd want to be a different person.

**Reasons Why Whoever Hannah Montana Really Is Would Want To Be A Different Person**

**1. **She murdered somebody. That's got to be on every "why are they pretending to be somebody else" list. Although if she _did _murder someone...she's got a bad job if she's trying to hide it, I mean, she's got people watching her constantly.

**2. **She's running from the Russian Mafia. Is there even a Russian Mafia? I'm not really sure what country the Mafia's supposed to be from.

**3. **She...wants to be normal sometimes? I guess this is _probably _it, even if it is the most boring choice. I guess it would be kinda hard to go out to eat, or buy a toothbrush, or go to like, an amusement park or something without getting ambushed if you were as famous as her.

Now...what should I do with this new information?

**Things I Could Do Now That I Know Hannah's Secret**

**1**. Blackmail her into giving me tons of money. I don't think I'll do that though...it'd be kinda mean, and I consider myself a nice person. And if mom found out, she'd probably kill me. Not to mention what Hannah...er..._Miley _would do...I'd never get away with it.

**2. **Tell her I know, and that it's not a big deal.

**3. **Tell the media. Again, I'm too nice to do this. Well, Trent would probably disagree on the whole "nice" thing...I did put worms in his pillow case last night...he hates worms.

I decided not to say anything to Hannah. I mean, I consider her one of my best friends. Ok, so she's my _only _friend, but still. Eventually she'll tell me, right?

So I messed around with the video, cutting out the last part and deleting it, before posting it on the website. I watched it quickly to make sure it worked, cause, being as stupid as I am, it would be no surprise if I put the other part of the video on and let the world know her secret.

I turned off the computer and turned on the tv. I started flipping through the channels. Eventually, I landed on a documentary about dogs, and started watching that. My phone started ringing, and I answered it without looking to see who it was.

"Oh my god Zach, guess what!!!" Hannah voice rang in my ear. Oh my god. It's Hannah. What do I say?

"Oh hey Hannah, guess what? I watched a video tape of you in your dressing room and now I know your secret, isn't that great?" I yelled enthusiastically.

Ok, so that is _not _what I said, even though it would make things easier.

"Umm...what?" I asked, instead. Stupid, I know.

"We beat the record!!!!! I was just watching tv, and they were talking about the show!! We had the most viewers out of any tv show pilot or tv movie!!!!" She sounded extremely excited...even more that normal...but hey, this was a _big _deal.

"What? Seriously? No way."

"Yes way!! We've got to get planning that party soon...we'll invite _everybody_." She said. I could hear crunching on the other end as she stopped talking. I think she was eating something, her voice sounded kinda funny.

"Not _everybody_, I don't think I'd fit that many people in my house...plus, my mom wouldn't be too happy...she said I could have a _small _party If the show did good...I think she wants them to pay admission though..."

"I'll talk to her...we'll just invite...half of everybody, how about that? Some of them won't even show up, so it won't be too bad." She told me.

"Ummm...sure...Saturday after next, ok? It's not supposed to rain then, I don't think."

It usually didn't rain much here, but it _was _April, and you know how it is.

So by the time of the party, Hannah had invited like, 40 people. Guess how many of them showed up? 35!!!

It was about 85 degrees, so it it was pretty nice, compared to the rainy days of the previous week. I was pretty happy.

My parent's were out of town for the weekend, with Trent but they had told the neighbors to make sure we kept it under control. They were actually being really nice, letting me have this party. I needed to remember to thank them. The whole week before they left, they'd been wondering if the fence they'd had put up two months ago was tall enough, when people started showing up and watching the house, waiting for me to come out.

I have fans! Isn't that amazing?

For about the first hour of the party though, I learned that I had fans other than creepy stalkers. I had _famous _fans! All kinds of people kept coming up to me and telling me that they loved the show, or that I was really good for not acting before. I _had _acted before, but I guess hardly anybody knew that.

While the Disney vs. Nickelodeon volleyball game was going on in the pool (Disney was winning) the rest of us sat out next to the food. I was chowing down on a bag of chips, while Hannah was just sitting there watching the game. Everybody else was playing monkey in the middle off to the side, but we'd decided not to play. I'm really bad at that game anyways.

Hannah had worn her swimsuit underneath her clothes, but it didn't look like she was planning on using it. It was probably a good thing she did wear it though, because when the volleyball game ended, Zac, Corbin, and Jesse all teamed up on her and tossed her into the pool. It didn't look very hard, I mean she weighs next to nothing, and when she climbed out, you could see just how skinny she was. With her clothes sticking to her, I guessed I could fit my hands around her waist easily. She was tiny.

She was extremely mad after that though. Especially at me, because I had laughed. She started drying off, and when she was completely dry, about an hour later, I noticed just how loose the clothes she'd been wearing were. She dried for no reason though, because just then it started raining. Really, really hard.

My house is built into a hill, and they just flattened out an area for the porch, where we eventually had placed an in-ground pool. It was pretty nice, because it never really got muddy up by us, no matter how much it rained. Down at the bottom though, the roads were starting to fill up.

The roads were starting to flood, so people were leaving. Eventually, there were just 17 of us left. We were all playing Truth or Dare in my living room. I of course, was on the phone, assuring my neighbor, Mrs. Thompson, that I _knew _it was raining, and that we were only playing games inside.

After an exhausting conversation with my 73 year old neighbor, I got to join the circle. I usually didn't play this game, because they always dared me to do some pretty bad stuff. I had to eat a raw fish last time. I don't know how they _got _a raw fish, but they did.

We were going around the circle, and they were on Hannah now.

"Truth or Dare?" Dakota Fanning asked her. I don't know why she got invited, I mean, she has been like, 12 for the past ten years...but Hannah said something about Revenge, and added her to the list.

"Ummm...Dare." She decided. At that moment, Jason Dolley came into the living room, holding a cup of something nasty. He set it in front of Hannah, and Dakota said,

"Drink that."

"What _is _it?" Hannah asked.

"Peanut butter, hot sauce, ketchup, sugar, chocolate syrup, and pickles, all courtesy of Zach's blender." Jason answered.

"Eww, gross."

"You have to do it, you chose dare!" Random people shouted out.

"Fine." She said, and picked it up. She looked around the room, and tipped it into her mouth. She had it all down her throat in seconds. A second later, she was on her way to the bathroom to throw it all up. I know I would, who knows what that stuff could do to your stomach.

Somebody dared Corbin to go climb the fence and ding-dong ditch the neighbors, which he did, and then it was my turn. Hannah had come back by that time, with a glass of water and some gum in her mouth. She sat back down next to Corbin and we continued.

"Ok Zach, Truth or Dare?" Corbin asked, smiling. I had a feeling he had a good dare up his sleeve.

"Truth. I always get stuck eating something gross when I pick dare."

"Ok..." Corbin said. I could tell he was disappointed. I felt I'd made a good choice.

"Ummm...do you...like Hannah as more than a friend?"

Just as he said that, Hannah spit out the water she'd had in her mouth.

"Sorry...I'll go...clean that up." She got up and left. Everybody stared at me, smiling.

She kinda already knew, so I figured, what the heck. No time like the present to be honest, right?

"Umm...yes...I guess so." I finally said. Everybody started laughing, and somebody shouted "I knew it!"

I looked down at the floor as they moved on to Emma Roberts, whom they dared to let Jason draw a tattoo on her stomach with a sharpie, blindfolded. It didn't turn out too well.

I glanced at Hannah out of the corner of my eye. She finished cleaning up and got up to return the towel. Her face was red. I couldn't imagine what mine looked like.

It started raining even harder, so more people started leaving before the roads started flooding. Eventually, it was just Hannah and me.

We were in the kitchen, surrounded by all the food from outside, and she was trying to call her dad. I was eating more chips.

"He won't answer." She said, frustrated, as she hung up, again.

She pulled a bowl of Doritos closer and started eating a couple.

A whole minute went by before she said anything. She pushed the bowl of chips away and said,

"Zach. I consider you one of my best friends…I mean, I trust you with a lot of stuff…"

"Yeah?" I asked, stuffing another chip into my mouth.

"Do you think I could trust you with some really, really big?" She asked.

"Umm…yeah, sure." I had a pretty good idea what she was going to tell me.

She ducked down and was hidden behind the island for a minute or two. Eventually, she swooped back up, with her blonde hair in her hands and her slightly damp, (probably from being thrown in the pool and not getting a chance to dry) brunette hair draped over her shoulders.

I tried to look surprised. It was hard.

****

Ok, so this last part actually did happen before, just this time he actually knew before this…so yeah…review!!!! You have to, seriously. Or...Selena will come after you and give you a weird embarassing nickname that you'll have to live with for the rest of your life!!!!!! Ha ha...can't do without my jokes... 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_**Ugh...seems like I always get stuck at this part...I'm gonna try, but I can't promise this chapter will be very good...that doesn't mean you don't have to read it though!!! You clicked!!!!!!**_

**_Disclaimer: Same as the last one..._

* * *

**

Pretending that you don't know your best friend is really somebody else when you actually _do _know, is pretty hard. Especially for me, because I'm stupid. There. I admitted it.

So besides being craniologically challenged, I am also a really bad liar. Seriously. I look like I'm lying whether I'm being honest or not. I do my best to tell the truth, because people can see right through me. It's pretty horrible, especially when you're in the entertainment business.

I was once asked about a rumor that my diet consists of only ketchup and pickles, which it doesn't, but I had one of those weird smiles on my face, so now they call me pickle boy. It's actually pretty embarrassing that that's the only way people recognize me. Well, not anymore...after the show premiered, I've been getting recognized more and more. It's kinda nice. I get to the front of the line at McDonald's all the time now.

So anyways, I'm standing in front of a bowl of Tostitos and Hannah Montana, who is not really Hannah Montana. So like I said before, she doesn't know that I know who she really is. Well, kind of. I know she's not who she says she is, and that's about it.

I'm actually really proud that I know anything at all. I feel smart. But thinking about what I said above...I don't feel so smart anymore. That actually made no sense at all. I'm sorry. I apologize for any confusing I may do in the future. Which will probably be a lot.

Alright, so I'm standing here, trying to look surprised, which is way harder than it looks.

"Ok...this has got to be _the _weirdest day of my life. And that' saying something." I told her. Technically, I wasn't lying. It _was _pretty weird.

"Yeah, umm...so...I really don't know what to say now...this all seems pretty pointless, actually." She said, picking at her wig and staring at the bowl of Doritos in front of her like she was trying to move them with Telekinesis. She had this funny look in her eyes and was biting her lip.

"Ummm, so, who are you really?" I asked. I had to say something, her silence was pretty scary, considering how loud she usually was.

"My name's Miley Stewart...I live in Malibu, go to a public school...and just happen to secretly be a world famous pop star." She said.

"Oh...well, nice to meet you Miley Stewart." I said, holding out my hand. She shook it, and laughed.

"You don't have to worry about me saying anything. I totally get why you do it." I assured her.

"I'm not a murderer, if that's what you're thinking...and I'm not running from the government...or anything stupid like that that I _know _you're thinking."

"Pssh, _I wasn't thinking..._you're not?"

"No. I assure you, you are perfectly safe right now."

"Good. I just started getting famous, I don't wanna die now."

She laughed, and suddenly, I heard this rumbling noise.

"Was that thunder?" I asked.

"I think it was my stomach...I'm really hungry...do you have any ketchup?" She asked, embarrassed.

"Ummm, yeah, why?" I asked, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of Heinz. I handed it to her, and she reached across the counter for a Styrofoam bowl. She grabbed a handful of Doritos, dumped it into the bowl, and squirted ketchup all over it.

She looked up at me, saw that I was staring, and paused, with a ketchup covered chip in her open mouth.

"This is weird isn't it?" She asked, before chewing the chip.

"No, not at all." I said. I smiled at her, grabbed the still wet blender in the sink, dried it off, and set it on the counter. I poured some red Kool-aid into it, grabbed a bag of Oreos, dumped them in, and squirted some whipped cream into it. I turned on the blender and said,

"_That,_ Is weird."

Hannah, er, Miley, laughed at me, and ate another chip. To tell you the truth, I didn't care if she was eating raw rhinoceros tongue dipped in chocolate, as long as she was eating _something. _She was so small, she looked like if she skipped breakfast, she might disappear.

I turned off the blender and poured my smoothie into a glass. I took a sip, and stared at Miley. I really couldn't see a resemblance between her and the Hannah I knew. Without the wig she seemed so different.

"What...do I have ketchup on my face?" She asked, wiping her face with her arm.

"No." I said, before taking another drink.

She finished her chips and leaned against the counter.

"So...you went to a public school, right?" She asked me.

"Yeah, I went to the same one up until we started filming. Why?" I asked.

"What do you think of dancing?" She asked, biting her lip again.

"I don't know...I've never done it."

"Well...we're taking this weird etiquette class at school...and the final test is a formal dance...we have to do all those fancy dances...the waltz, foxtrot, that kind of stuff, and we get graded on it...would you want to come, with me?" She asked me. Her face was turning red again.

"I'd love to." I said, smiling. "You'll have to teach me though...the most dancing I've done is the Cha-cha slide...and it's explained in the song, so..."

She smiled and grabbed another chip. She squirted more ketchup on it, and put it in her mouth.

"I've found that I'm a good dance teacher...I taught my entire science class this dance I made up when we were studying bones...even the kid with the prosthetic leg could do it."

"You must be a miracle worker." I said.

"Nope...It's just one thing I didn't inherit from my dad. He was a horrible dancer."

I took another drink of my weird smoothie, and noticed Miley staring at it.

"What...what does that taste like?" She asked. She had a look on her face that reminded me of my Uncle Carl. He was a smoker, and when he was trying to quit, and my grandpa would smoke around him, he'd always get this look on his face like he really wanted a cigarette but was holding himself back. She looked exactly like him, only she wasn't bald, and didn't have a Hitler mustache.

"Try it." I said, holding my glass out. She reached for it, slowly closed her fingers around it, and stared into the glass for a minute. Then, she took a drink. A very _big _drink. I had hardly any left.

"That's not actually as gross as it looks." She commented, as she set it down on the counter.

It did look pretty nasty. But once you got used to it, it really wasn't that bad.

I set my empty glass in the sink and headed to the living room.

"Wanna play Guitar Hero? I'm a lot better than last time we played on set...you might only beat me by 300 now." I asked, smiling back at her.

"Yeah, sure." She said, following me.

I turned on the PS2 and plugged in the guitars. I handed her one and we started playing the game. She beat me, horribly, on the first song, but after that, I started beating her. I noticed by the 4th song that she wasn't even trying. I paused the game and asked,

"Are you ok?"

She ran her fingers through her hair and said, laughing,

"I think I ate too many chips...I've got that pain in my stomach."

"You want some more? If you keep eating, eventually you'll just blow up, and the pain will go away."

She laughed, set the guitar down, and said,

"I'll be right back."

After about 10 whole minutes, she came back. Her eyes were red, like she'd been crying.

"What's wrong? I asked, as she sat down on the couch and pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Nothing." She said, wiping her eyes. I stared at her, and she looked away.

"It's nothing...I just...don't feel very good."

I didn't believe her. Even _I'm _not that stupid. I didn't want to pressure her into telling me though, so I let it drop.

"So, when's the dance thing?" I asked, casually.

"Umm...the, uh...the...23rd...yeah, the 23rd...at umm, it starts at...6...I think." She said. It took her forever to get it out. It' like she'd stuffed a whole back of marsh mellows in her mouth, and couldn't talk in complete sentences until she got them all out. If that makes any sense...

"Ok...well, what should I wear?"

"Umm...that one green polo we got at the mall? Wear that...and...I don't know...umm, those khakis you wore the other day...wear those."

"Ok..." The lights flickered and she looked up.

"You need anything...Pepto Bismol? A stomach transplant?"

She smiled and shook her head. Just then, the lights went out. Completely. It was dark now. We'd stood in the kitchen for a long time.

I got up to get a flashlight, and noticed a car at the end of the driveway. I checked the battery powered monitor from the security camera down by the gate. It was Miley's dad. I unlocked the gate to let him in, and grabbed a flashlight, and Miley's Hannah wig.

On my way back to the living room, I saw her dad opening the gate himself. We didn't usually have power outages, so the gate was electric powered.

"Hey, Miley, your dad's here!" I called into the living room. No answer. I went into the living room, and saw her asleep on the couch. I shined the flashlight in her face and noticed how thin her hair was. I normally don't look too closely at people's hair, but this was noticable, up close.

"Miley." I whispered. She said nothing.

"Miley, wake up."

I grabbed ahold of her hands and pulled her up. I could feel calluses on her knuckles. It was pretty gross. I thought girl's were supposed to have soft hands. Shows what I know. Last time I held a girl's hand, was in kindergarden...and it was my cousin.

She still wasn't awake. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

"Miley? Hannah...hello? Wake up!!! Your dad's coming!!!He's gonna think I murdered you!!!!!" I screamed at her.

That woke her up. Her eyes shot open, and she imediately sat up.

"Your dad's here." I repeated.

"Yeah...I better go." She ripped the wig out of my hand and headed for the door.

"Bye!!!" I called.

"Whatever." She said, before slamming the door.

Ok, I definately was not lying when I said this was the weirdest day of my life. I watched her leave, and wondered what was going on.

So I was stuck at home, in the dark, with a whole lot of stuff to think about.

This promised to be an interesting weekend.

**_Ugh...this really stinks...seriously...the next chapter will be more exciting!!! I promise!!!!!!!!_**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**_I wasn't gonna put an author's note until the end, since I have nothing to say...but then I wanted to tell you I wasn't gonna put an author's note until the end...so this kinda defeats the whole purpose. This is not here!!!!

* * *

_**RING RING RING

In case you didn't know, that's the sound a phone makes. At least, that's the sound _my _phone makes. So my phone is ringing, alright? Good. I'm glad we cleared that up.

I ran through the house, trying to find me cell phone. It was kind of hard in the dark, on account of I can't see. I looked in the kitchen, that was the last place I'd seen it.

Cookie Jar? No.

Fridge? No.

Toaster? Yes. Good thing I hadn't had a craving for an English muffin, or something else that requires toasting.

"Hello?" I asked the person on the other end. I guess I shouldn't assume it's a person so quickly though, for all I know, it could be the neighbor's cat.

"Dude!!!" Somebody screamed into the phone. I'm pretty sure it was my manager, Gary. He has a tendency to be EXTREMELY LOUD AND ANNOYING.

"What?" I asked, slightly peeved at the fact that he'd decided it was necessary to scream in my ear.

"They want you to present at the Bronzes dude!!!" He yelled. I turned the volume down. Don't ask me why they decided to call this particular award show the Bronze Goblets...I for one, thought it was a really stupid name. Bronze Goblets? Come on. They might as well call it the Lead Hamburgers. That wouldn't be good though. Lead hamburgers, I mean. 'Cause lead is poisonous...and people eat hamburgers. So that would poison people...

"Huh?" I asked. What he said hadn't really registered. All I heard was "Bronze Goblets" and "DUDE!!!"

"They...want...you...to...present...at...the...bronzes." He said slowly. I'm pretty sure Gary thinks I'm retarded. He's always explaining really simple things to me. Like how to open a door, and how to breath, and other easy stuff like that.

"Seriously?" The Bronzes...me? There must be some mistake. I'm unpopular, weird and, according to Hannah, stupid. Nobody wants _me_ to present an award.

"I'm dead serious dude! They just called me and asked if you would be willing to present the award for best secret on a TV show...cause, you know, you're on a tv show...and you play a guy with a secret." Gary explained.

"Thank you very much for telling me something I already know." I said annoyed.

"You're welcome. Now, listen, you've got that interview on E! at 10 tomorrow. You're supposed to be there."

"No...cause my first instinct is to not show up for my own interview. Seriously Gary. Just like you, I happen to have a brain." I said.

"Whatever, dude. Just be on time, ok?"

"_I will._" I replied, before hanging up.

I set my phone down on the coffee table and sat down on the couch. _Me? The Bronzes? _

A moment later, the lights came on. I got up from the couch, took a shower, and went to bed. I was like a robot. Only, I had a brain...and wasn't made of metal...at least, I didn't think so.

I woke up at about 7 the next morning, when my mother called to ask me if I'd burned down the house, and yell at me for things she was sure I was going to do, that I hadn't done yet. I hung up on her and started getting ready. At about 8:30, I was in my car. Yes, _my _car. I have a car. Don't worry, I've warned everybody to stay off the sidewalks. Because that's the most dangerous place to be while I'm on the road. According to Hannah...er, Miley...anyways.

I pushed her out of my mind as I pulled into the parking lot of the studio. I entered the building, and was whisked off by the crew of The Daily 10. Apparently, I was 3 seconds late. Some lady with a brush started brushing powdery stuff onto my face. Which got up my nose and in my mouth, which caused me to sneeze all over her. She didn't look too happy.

Once they were finished turning me into a girl, they pushed me off in the direction of the interview. A brunette woman, who was also getting her face powdered, smiled at me and stuck out her hand for me to shake.

"Catt Sadler." She introduced herself. Well, I'm assuming that was her name. She could have been saying "You're ugly" in like, foreignese or some other weird language.

"Zach Dykstra." I said, shaking her hand.

"I know who you are." She said, smiling, as the powder woman started putting more makeup on her. She finished and motioned for me to follow her. She sat down in a chair, and told me to sit in the one across from her. The camera started rolling, and Catt crossed her legs.

"So, we finally get to meet the famous Zach Dykstra." She said, smiling.

"Famous?" I asked, smiling.

"Oh yeah, dude you're big! Haven't you read any magazines, or turned on the tv or anything?" She asked me, still smiling. I was beginning to think her face was stuck that way.

"I am? Wow...and just last year even my teachers didn't know my name." I said.

"Aww, that's sad." She said, pouting. There goes the permanent smile theory.

"Ok, so tell me about your show. It's pretty big from what I here. Like you." She said.

"Well, nobody really bothers to tell me stuff, except for Hannah. She was the one that had to call me and tell me that we broke the record." I explained.

"Really. So would you say you to are close?"

"Yeah. She's my best friend." I said. I looked into the camera and waved.

"Just best friends?" She asked, a funny look on her face.

I said nothing. She leaned in, smiling.

"Yes. Just friends." I said. She smiled even wider, and started to ask another question.

"So, what is the show about, for all those people that just crawled out from under a rock?"

"Well, I play Andy Snyder, this super genius kid that joins the CIA. It's pretty much about him trying to keep his secret missions, or whatever, a secret from everybody."

"So the show was originally supposed to be a kids show, right?" She asked, uncrossing her legs.

"Umm, yeah, it was supposed to be...but the director decided that the script was a little inappropriate for the younger audience, so now it's an adult show, I guess."

"That's a good thing though. Now I can watch it without my husband making fun of me." She said, laughing. I laughed too, and she sat up straighter.

"Ok, so you've got a pretty good cast. Hannah Montana, Mikayla, both famous pop stars, Jake Ryan, from Zombie High, Denise Miller, from Bizarre **_(movie I made up, pretend it's very famous)_**. What's it like having all these people around you?"

"Well, the adults pretty much keep to themselves, so we're not actually that close. I'm pretty sure Denise is afraid of me though. She always gives me this weird look every time I talk to her."

Catt laughed and crossed her legs.

"You said you and Hannah are close, what about Jake and Mikayla?" She asked. I wish she hadn't asked that question. I didn't know how to answer it.

"Well...we get along...we're not that close...but we've only done one season, so...maybe once we start filming again, we'll be better friends." I said. I thought that about covered it.

"I hope so. The show wouldn't be the same if any of you left. Especially you. You can't leave the show. No dying on us." She said, laughing.

"I'll try my best." I answered.

"Well, thank you for stopping by."

"You're welcome. It was nice to meet you." I shook her hand again and got up.

Finally. It was over. Now I could go home and sleep again.

The first thing I heard when I left the studio, was screaming. Seriously. There were tons of girls surrounding the building. It was really scary. It was like The Fog...only there wasn't fog...there were girls.

I tried to ignore them and headed to my car. I climbed in, and heard somebody scream "Will you marry me?" as I tried to leave. Wow. I'd never been this popular in my life.

I pulled out of the parking lot, almost running over a girl in the process, and waved at them as I left. When I got home, I closed the gate as fast as I could. They followed me home!!!

When I went inside, I closed all the curtains. I didn't need girls watching me every time I peeled an orange, or changed the channel on the tv. That would be weird.

Over the next week and a half, I discovered just how popular I was. It was amazing. I was more famous than Jake. And I had better breath. It was amazing. I had to get my phone number changed, because it leaked out and I had at least 50 proposals every day. It was scary. Every time I flipped the channel, there I was! They had commercials for our show on the rival networks. It was crazy. They even had cardboard cut-outs of me at Walmart. I made a note not to go there again. Those things freaked me out.

Miley had come over every afternoon for the past three days, trying to teach me to dance. It actually wasn't as hard as I'd thought it would be. That's not to say i wasn't bad at it, because I definitely was. I sucked. I just wasn't as bad as I had expected.

The afternoon of the dance, we were doing the fox trot in my living room, and I was doing extremely bad.

"Zach. Keep your hands on my waist." Miley said, laughing, as she pulled my hands back up. They seemed to keep dropping. It was kind of hard to keep them in place when she had nothing to hold them up. Seriously. The girl looks like a railroad tie. Every side is flat as a board. Well...not every side.

I didn't say that.

_Anyways, _I was trying. The music was just so boring I was about to fall asleep.

"We need better music. This is the kind of music you play for babies when they won't shut up." I exclaimed.

Miley rolled her eyes and grabbed the stereo remote. She changed the channel and some song that I'm pretty sure was in Jamaican. If that's actually a language.

Miley put her arms around my neck again, and tried to help me.

"Not so fast, slow down." She said quietly. I did as she said. I'm pretty sure that disobeying Hannah would be about as bad as being drug down the highway behind a semi.

The song changed and she stopped.

"What?" I asked. "Am I that bad?"

"No...it's just...I can't believe they're playing this song on this station. They usually beep out this stuff." She said, laughing.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just listen to it." I did. Again, semi? I couldn't understand a word the lady was saying.

"What about it?"

"Don't you know what it's about?"

"No...I can't understand it." I admitted.

"It's about sex." She told me, turning it up. I didn't really understand why she cared.

"How do you know that? I can't understand a word. Do you have like, dolphin ears or something?"

She looked at me weird. Dolphin ears? What was that about? Aren't dolphins like, deaf? or maybe it's blind...they use sonar, right? So they have to be able to hear. Maybe. I don't know. I'd ask a dolphin...but they don't speak English.

"Strum me like a guitar blow out my amplifier, when you hear some feedback keep going take it higher?" She sang along, with a weird smile on her face, like she was trying to prove a point. Wait. She was.

"How do you know she's not just singing about how she thinks she's an inanimate object?" I asked, squinting.

"Whatever. You're impossible."

"Why does it matter anyways?"

"It doesn't. It's just this is a kid's station, and they're playing songs about sex."

"You got something against it?" I asked, smiling.

"No." She said, grabbing my hands and starting to dance again.

"Then you wanna do it?" I asked, joking around. She started laughing. She knew I was joking, she sounded like a hyena. She slapped me on the chest and snorted.

"Oh my god. I just snorted. I've never done that before in my life...I sound like a pig."

I laughed along with her and took the lead. She was too busy laughing to pay any attention to where she was going, and had almost walked right into my great grandma's coffee table.

Miley finally stopped laughing, and looked more serious.

"Oh my god...you're actually doing it! And just when I was begining to think you were a lost cause." She said, smiling.

"Hey, what do you know, I am doing it." I said, smiling. I sat down on the couch and she laid down on the ground.

"Your carpet's really prickly." She said, spreading her hair out all around her.

"_Thanks_." I replied, putting my feet up on the coffee table.

"You're welcome." She said, inattentively.

"I like your hair." She said randomly. I'd just gotten my hair darkened. It was my managers idea. He thought it looked like something out of the sewers. Shows how friendly he is.

"Thanks." I said again. She was silent.

"You want something to drink?"

"No." She replied. She had her eyes closed, but the look on her face wasn't calm, like it would be if she was asleep.

"You sure?" I asked, as I got up to get myself a glass of water.

"Yes I'm sure! God Zach, I already told you I didn't want anything." She suddenly yelled at me, opening her eyes.

"Well _sor-ry."_ I apologized. I hated these mood swings she kept having. One minute she'd be laughing, the next, she'd be yelling at me for something. She had serious issues.

"I have to go anyways. See you later." She said, getting up off the floor. She gave me a hug, a kiss, and left. Just like that. It was extremely weird. I didn't have a clue what was going on with her. I watched her leave before heading to the bathroom to take a shower. About three hours later, I said goodbye to my mom, and left the house, after about 15 minutes of evading my stalkers, to go get Miley. I was worried about her. I was even worried about myself. I would not be one bit surprised if when she got in the car, she beheaded me with an ax. I actually had second thoughts about going.

I pulled into her driveway and tried to make myself go up to the front door. Her dad kinda scared me. I have a feeling he doesn't know that I know about Miley. He probably would've threatened me by now if he did. Before I had a chance to get out of the car, though, Miley bolted outside. She ran pretty fast, for someone wearing heels.

"You look nice." I told her, when she climbed in. She was wearing this shiny black dress. It tied around her neck and was sort of ruffled around her stomach. It had a couple silver buttons down the front, between her...never mind. She looked nice, that's all. Although she did look even thinner than usual.

"Thanks. So do you." She said. I was glad to see she was back to being her usual cheerful self. I backed out of the driveway, and she gave me directions to the school, where the whole shebang was being held. It was only about five blocks from the school I used to go to. I bet you more people here would recognize me though. I parked in the parking lot, and she led me to the gym, where everybody was gathered.

"Miley!!! There you are!!" A familiar annoying voice screeched, before Miley's friend launched herself on us.

"I haven't seen you in forever. Where've you been?" She asked. Miley said nothing, so she went on.

"You won't believe what Amber's wearing. It's so ugly, it's just...gross..." She shivered and looked at me.

"Oh, hey...Miley didn't tell me she was bringing _you_." Well isn't _she_ great? She definitely seems _glad _I'm here.

"Nice to see you, without your...green hair." I nodded at her. She just looked at me.

"This is Lilly." Miley explained.

"And this is Lilly leaving." Lilly said, before heading in the diction of a guy I guessed was Mike. She drug him away to the punch bowl, and Miley grabbed my hand.

"Do you really think I look ok?" She asked me. She was actually serious.

"Of course you do. You could wear a paper bag and you'd still look better than all these other girls..wait...is that girl wearing a paper bag?" I asked, pointing in the direction of a black girl with this brown paperish looking formless dress on.

"Oh my god, Lilly was right. It _is_ ugly." Miley said, laughing.

"Alright everybody, time for dinner!" A woman with a prison warden voice screamed over the sound of tons of people I didn't know talking.

We headed to what I was guessing was the cafeteria. They had some nice tablecloths on the tables, and even some candles in the middle. It was decorated really nicely for a school dance.

Lilly, Miley and I sat down at a table off to the side, and within two minutes, Lilly managed to catch her hair in the candle. While Miley was trying to help her put out the fire, The guy Lilly'd been dragging around earlier sat down next to her.

"Hey...you're Zach, right?" He asked me.

"Yeah...and I'm guessing you're Mike."

"My real name's Oliver." He explained.

"Nice to meet you. Again."

He nodded, and Miley sat back down next to me. Eventually they brought out the food, and we started eating. I'd noticed then, that there were tons of people staring at me. After a while, Lilly said,

"I better go wash the soot out of my hair. Oliver. Escort me." She ordered. She got up and, dragging Oliver behind her, she left the room. I turned to Miley, and noticed she'd eaten barely anything. She was pushing her food around her plate, staring at it.

"Aren't you gonna eat?" I asked.

"I am." She said quietly.

She was lying. I realized then how little she'd been eating the whole time I knew her. She was shrinking and shrinking and I hadn't even noticed. I was shocked that I hadn't figured out something this big sooner.

I stared at her for a minute, feeling horrible. Then she realized I was staring at her. She saw the look on my face and the look on her face changed completely. She knew what I was thinking.

I had to say something. This was all my fault. I sort of had an excuse, but I didn't really want to use it.

"You haven't been eating." I finally said. "All this time."

"I have too. You saw me eat those chips at your party." She argued, looking away.

"You went into the bathroom after that." I said.

"So what?" She asked, looking angry.

"You're sick, Miley."

"I am not. I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She looked away, gripping her fork tighter.

"You're...you're Bulimic...you're Anorexic...You're Bulexic!"

"I am not!" She yelled at me. Everybody turned and looked at us.

I felt really bad. It's just...when you're caught up with being better than Jake Ryan for once, you tend to be a little inattentive. Maybe if I had noticed, she wouldn't be holding that fork like she was going to stab me with it, and that evil gleam in her eyes would be gone.

"Leave." She said.

"No. I'm not leaving."

"I said leave! Now! Get out of here! I never want to see you again!" She yelled at me, not caring that her entire class was watching.

"I'm not leaving, Miley." I said, calmly. She picked up her water and splashed it in my face, before getting up and leaving the room. I just sat there, dripping wet, while everybody stared at me.

"What's going on?" Lilly asked me, as she came back to the table, with Oliver behind her.

"Nothing." I said, before getting up an leaving.

If she didn't care about herself, than neither did I.

**_Ok, so I redid my profile a couple weeks ago...if you haven't had a chance yet, check it out..k? I'm kinda starting to wonder if anybody's actually reading this though...i hate to do it, but unless I get...8 reviews...I'm not sure I'll bother to update...really theres no point of nobody's reading this..._**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**_ok, I have to say that I probably won't finish anything else until I'm done with this, which might be a little while...so anybody that actually cares about anything else I'm writing...I'm sorry.

* * *

_**

So I was mad. Really, really mad. Not just mad, I was angry. Furious. Enraged. Fuming. Infuriated. I was irate. I was exasperated. I was reading my dad's thesaurus again.

How could she do that to herself? How could she not care about what was happening to her? How could she not see that she was ruining her body? How could she not see that she had been perfect, in every way? How could she be so stupid?

Why do I care so much? If she doesn't want my help, so be it. I don't care. If she wants to ruin herself, she can go right on ahead and do it. Just don't expect me to do anything about it. I'm not going to try and help her if she doesn't want me to.

The truth is, I _do _care. A lot more than I want to. I really want to forget her, and let her go off to wreck herself all she wants to. But I can't. As much as I want to deny it, I care a lot about her. Way more than I had previously thought. Way, way more.

I tried to take out all the anger I felt towards her by blasting the radio in my room, while vandalizing a poster of Hannah I'd found in a magazine lying around the house. I gave her a Sharpie mustache, and a goatee. What made me even more angry though, was the fact that she looked great, even as a man. I gave her a Mohawk, but she still looked amazing. This was obviously an old poster. She didn't look like a twig. She was normal sized. Well, as normal sized as a girl with her career could be. Sure, girls in Hollywood had to be thin. They had to be different from most normal people. It was sick, that people had to look up to these girls. These girls who, no matter how unhealthy it was, had to find a way to be thin.

I gave up on defacing the poster and just colored in her entire face. It made me feel better, in a way, scribbling on her. I filled in the entire poster, front and back, and decided there was no way I could destroy this poster any more.

Lying on my bed, I stared at the ceiling. My eyes went from tiny bump to tiny bump, taking in the texture of the ceiling. It got boring, so I turned up the radio and closed my eyes. If I asked you to guess what the next song that played was, what would you guess? If you guessed the sex song, you are 100 percent correct. I let out a cry of anguish, and quickly turned of the radio.

I hate her for making that song funny. For making me want to laugh when I hear it. I really, really really hate her. I hate her for hating herself. Why was she so unhappy? She was perfect in almost every way. Well, not any more. Not now that she resembled a stick figure. She was so thin now, that she was almost 2D. She wasn't perfect any more. Why would she want to be, though? Nobody is perfect, just like she said. Why would she even try?

She's such a hypocrite. She goes around singing "If I'm not doin' too well, why be so hard on my self?" Yeah, Miley, _why?_ You _are _too hard on yourself.

"Nobody's Perfect! Ya live and ya learn it! And if I mess it up sometimes...Nobody's Perfect!"

She _did_ mess it up. She really messed it up. She messed herself up so bad, she'll probably never be the same. Even if she gets a chance.

Don't even ask me why I know the words to that song, ok? I had a lot of free time over the summer, and if your annoying brother sang it in your ear in his squeaky girl voice for three months straight, you'd know it too. I've learned to wear ear plugs around him. He does kinda of sound like Nick Jonas though when he sings Jonas Brothers songs. I better make a note to apologize to Nick for saying that.

I got up and went into the kitchen. There was a note on the fridge from my mother, telling me that she was at a friends house for lunch, and if I broke anything, she'd murder me, and then she'd have to leave a note for Trent telling him that she was in prison.

I sighed and opened the fridge. The first thing I saw was ketchup. I set it on the counter, and took out some Go-gurt. I opened the Go-gurt and stuck it in my mouth. Then, I grabbed the Doritos off the counter, and carried them, along with the ketchup, outside. I then threw them both over the fence. I went inside to eat my Go-gurt, feeling a lot better. It was delicious.

I spent the next three weeks defacing everything Trent owned with Hannah's face on it. He wasn't very happy about it when he found out. I didn't exactly have his permission. He was especially unhappy when I went into his room and gave the Jonas Brothers unibrows. I'm lucky he doesn't know I took pictures and sent them to them.

One Saturday afternoon in late May, I turned on the tv, and started flipping channels. I paused on one that was talking about Hannah's tour. The kick-off concert had been the night before. I didn't go. I wasn't invited. Not that I wanted to go anyways. Ok, so I _did. _You got me. But I hadn't been invited, because I had a feeling Miley hated me just as much as I hated her at the moment.

They were talking about her dancing, and they showed a clip of her nearly losing her balance. She looked dizzy. No surprise, she seemed to think she was a cockroach or something and could go like, a week without eating. Wait...they go a week without they're head...oh well, same thing.

The people on the tv seemed to think that she had been drinking or something before the concert. I laughed. _Alcohol has calories._ Like she would drink that. _Water _probably has too many calories for her. Maybe even air. Not that you can eat or drink air...at least, I don't think you can.

So while they were talking about how Hannah was going to AA meetings every week, - Which she wasn't. I know for a fact she wouldn't willingly get help - I flipped the channel again. This time it was one of those "If you buy five million cases of yogurt you'll have a .0001 percent chance of winning a trip to Hollywood to hang out with Hannah for like, an hour" commercials. _Yogurt? _What, did they think Hannah ate yogurt? It'd make more sense if they put the code thing on a bag of celery. Or like, Ipecac syrup or something. I learned from a documentary on the Discovery channel that Ipecac syrup is something you take so that you'll throw up when you've eaten something poisonous. It's also very popular among the portion of the population that have contracted eating disorders. Like Miley.

I flipped the channel again. This time it was a Hannah Montana Barbie commercial. I turned off the tv and tossed the remote across the room. When it landed, the battery cover flew off, and the batteries rolled across the floor. I left them there, put on a hat and sunglasses. and grabbed my keys. I got in my car and drove across town. I parked in the parking lot of a McDonald's, the root of all evil, and climbed out of my car. I wandered around town, dropping money in those tin cans the guys with the guitars shake in front of you, buying a box of donuts that I would later leave by a dumpster, from a guy that looked like he hadn't showered in days.

I also, in a moment of temporary insanity, bought two tickets to a Hannah Montana concert, from a hobo outside Wal-Mart. I actually was gonna go, too. How insane is that? They should put me in a straight jacket and chuck me in the loony bin.

I figured I would bring my brother. That way mom would let me go. She'd been trying to get tickets for weeks. She cried when I told her I couldn't ask Hannah for them. I'd left out the whole "I told her she was Bulexic, so she told me she didn't ever want to see me again, dumped water on my head, and ran away, probably to throw up the food she hadn't eaten." part, but I'd told mom that we were no longer on speaking terms.

I didn't really understand why anybody would pay so much to watch an Anorexic twig twirl around on stage like she was high, but I guess they did. Every show had been sold out in one day.

I had decided that I probably owed this to Trent, since I defaced all his posters and all. He was ecstatic when I told him I'd got tickets. My mom hugged me, while Trent ran around, screaming like the little girl he is.

Two hours after I had told him, he was still screaming. I almost didn't hear the doorbell ring. I looked outside, recognized the girl standing by the gate, and pressed the speaker button on the monitor.

"Lilly?" I asked.

"Let me in!!!!!" She yelled into the speaker at her end, nearly busting my ear drum.

"What'd you yell so loud for?" I asked.

"To disorient you so you'd get confused and let me in." She answered.

I hit the button and went outside. I met her halfway up the driveway.

"How'd you find out where I lived?" I asked her.

"Phone book, duh. I thought you'd be smart enough to have your number taken out, but you weren't."

"Why are you here?"

"I need to know what you and Miley were fighting about at the dance." She said, sitting down on one of the boulders lining our driveway.

"Why?"

"Because." She said, like that covered it.

"Wow, thank you for keeping me informed." I said, sarcastically. Miley's sarcasm had rubbed off on me.

"It was about her not eating, wasn't it?" She looked at me, like the all-knowing person she thought she was.

"Yes. It was. What do you know about it?"

"I know that when I said something about it she screamed at me and threw a spatula at my head. And that she's been avoiding me, at school and at her house." Lilly told me.

"She needs help." I said.

"Help with what?" Lilly asked, snapping the lid back on the chapstick she had just taken out of her pocket.

"Oh...right...well, listen, we'll sneak into her next concert and ambush her. We'll just lock her in her dressing room and talk to her there."

"What makes you think she'll listen?"

"Nothing...but there's lots of heavy stuff in there to knock her out with if she won't listen."

I mentally rolled my eyes and asked,

"So you can get us in?" She pulled a backstage pass out of her pocket and waved it in my face.

"Do you always carry that around in your back pocket?" I asked.

"Yes. The strap comes in handy when I need to strangle somebody...so meet me there at about 6, ok? We'll talk to her before the concert. But don't be late, we won't have much time."

"Alright. Bye."

"What makes you think I'm leaving?" She asked me, raising an eyebrow.

"This does." I said, before promptly shoving her out of the gate.

I got my mom to take my ticket, so when she and Trent left for the concert, I followed a couple minutes later. They had to wait in line to get in, but Lilly bribed the guard out back into letting me in, even though I didn't have a pass.

Once we were inside, we snuck around, trying not to be seen. Finally, we found Hannah, standing by the stage, with a water bottle in her hand, trying to direct a man into moving something.

We hid around the corner, and the second she passed us, Lilly leaped onto her back.

"WTF Lilly!!" She yelled, her face buried in the carpet. "Are you insane?"

"Why would you ask a question like that?" Lilly asked, hurt.

"Oh I don't know, maybe because YOU JUST JUMPED ME AT MY OWN CONCERT AND YOU'RE SITTING ON MY BACK IN FRONT OF A BROOM CLOSET!!!!" She yelled.

"Oh...well, I did it for a reason." Lilly said, getting up. I grabbed Miley by the shoulders and steered her into her dressing room. Lilly locked the door, as I pushed Miley into a chair. She immediately jumped up and started pulling on the door knob. It's locked Miley!! That means it won't open. Stupid girl.

"Hannah, we need you on stage in two minutes." A voice called down the hallway.

"Let me out." She said.

"No. We need to talk to you." I said, picking up a stack of letters she had on the table. They were all from her fans, asking if she was ok, complaining about how skinny she was getting, and how bad of a role model she was becoming because of it. They were all tear stained. The bottom letter was from The BW, telling her that she'd be fired if she didn't start gaining weight soon, that she was too skinny, and that she was a role model for tons of people, and she couldn't be on the show if she wasn't being a good one.

"Yeah. It's an intervention...like on that one show...what's it called?"

"_Intervention?" _Miley replied, rolling her eyes.

"Right...Well...You're sick Miley." Lilly said, while I was reading the letters. "You haven't been eating for months. "

"I'm not sick. I have my reasons." Miley said, still pulling on the doorknob, like the idiot I was beginning to think she was.

"You _are sick. _You need to get help." Lilly said, calmly.

"I DON'T!!!" Miley screamed at her.

"You are!!! You wouldn't be yelling like this if you weren't!!" Lilly yelled back at her.

"I'M YELLING BECAUSE I HATE YOU!!!" She screamed again.

"Calm down! You know it's true! You read these letters, it's not just us that think you're sick." I said, trying to pull her away from the door.

"I won't calm down!!!" She yelled at me, pulling away. She abandoned the doorknob and resorted to trying to break down the door, using her shoulder.

"Miley, you need to eat. If you don't, you're gonna die!!" Lilly yelled at her, crying.

Miley turned around and slapped her across the face.

"I don't need your help!!" She yelled, before ramming the door with her shoulder, smashing it. She was really strong for someone that looked like throwing a snowball at her would smash her into a thousand pieces. She ran down the hallway, just as the same voice from before called her to the stage, for the third time since she'd been held hostage by us. We ran after her, but were stopped by two big bald men, once she was on stage. Nobody's Perfect started to play, but she wasn't singing. The two bald men turned around to see what was going on, and we used that moment to pass them. Just as we ran out on stage, Miley passed out, landing at the bottom of the steps.

The people in the audience started screaming. Some idiot yelled "Oh my god she's been shot!!!" It was probably my brother. He's stupid like that.

People from backstage rushed onstage, as Lilly and I stood there, shocked. Miley was carried off stage by one of the Jonas Brothers, and the rest of the crew followed them.

Lilly looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders. If this was what it took to get her some help, then maybe it was a good thing. Lilly picked up the microphone from the bottom step and said,

"Hello...unless you're blind, or just really really stupid...I think you know this concert isn't gonna happen. And to whatever idiot it was that was screaming out there, She wasn't shot. Guns make noise, ok? Hannah is just a really stupid girl who stopped eating...she'll be fine...I think...Well, look at the bright side, now you'll have a good story to tell to all those friends of yours that don't really care!!!"

The audience started booing her, so she said,

"If you'll just leave the way you came, you'll all be refunded. Thanks for coming! Bye!"

I then followed her offstage to see what was going on.

**_ok, _so this wasn't the least bit funny. But it's a serious part of the story, so you can't expect it to be...sooo...review. Now. No, now.Right this second. Right now. En este momento. (that means right now) I'm serious. Review now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or I'll sic the Barbie army on you!!!!!**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**_ok, it's been a while...I haven't really felt up to doing this...I've been more into my newest story, which is definitely not doing as well as I had hoped...but anyways,I decided to get back to this, or else I never will...I apologize if it sucks...and would also like to apologize for the lack of emotion on the last chapter...the whole last half got deleted so I had to rewrite it all, n it was late, and I was frustrated, so I left some stuff out... Anyways...no disclaimer today,I can't think of anything clever and entertaining...and I think I'm out of inside jokes lol._**

After making a sandwich at the snack bar, I went to find Miley outside, as an ambulance was pulling up. I probably seem kinda insensitive, having got something to eat before I found out how she was doing, but frankly, I'm scared of her. I don't think right now's a very good time to get too close to her.

I stood there, watching her, trying to decide if she had realized I was there yet. I'm guessing she had just woke up, because she was rubbing her eyes, and didn't look really really really really angry yet. I did my best to stay far away though, no matter how worried I was, because after what I had just witnessed...I'd say it was not unlikely that she would feel the need to throw one of the large rocks on the ground at my head. Not that I did anything wrong, because I definitely didn't. If you were to make a list of things you should and shouldn't do...well, I'll just make one.

**Things You Should Do**

**1. **Give money to a homeless man(or woman).

**2. **Buy Jake Ryan a tooth brush or some mouthwash. Preferably both.

**3. **Donate money to every charity in the world, except for the _Society for the Protection of Cheese, _because nobody really needs cheese. My brother definitely doesn't.

**4. **Pick up your own garbage.

**5. **Pick up other people's garbage.

**6. **Make sure people with eating disorders get help.

**7. **Don't bore people to death with lists like this one.

**Things You Shouldn't Do**

**1. **Hit/kick/bite/push/write on/steal from/pour gravy on people.

**2**.Take money from homeless people.

**3**. Sing _Islands in the Stream _during your acceptance speech at the Kids Choice Awards. The guy that got his award before me did that...Kids don't know that song, okay? Plus it's just kinda weird.

**4. **Develop an eating disorder.

**5. **Throw stuff at people because they found out you had an eating disorder and made you get some help.

I could definitely go on forever, but I'm not going to. I trust that you know right from wrong. I think I made my point anyways.

I stood in the back of the small crowd that had been allowed around the ambulance. Lilly was up at the front with Miley's dad and the paramedics, helping her into the ambulance. Miley was fighting them off, but she wasn't trying very hard. It seemed to me like she had finally given up. That was a good thing. It was the first step towards being a normal person. One who doesn't throw spatulas, or slap people, or break down doors trying to get away from people with food. She definitely had a long way to go, but I had a feeling she would get there. She had to. I'm pretty sure her dad would murder her if she didn't get better. He'd probably murder me too, just for effect. He's pretty protective, if you hadn't noticed.

I realized, standing there with my ham and cheese stuffed into my mouth, that Miley was crying. Most people would probably think that that was because she'd been caught, or because she'd hit her head, or even because her tear ducts freaked out or something and started overflowing, but I had a feeling that wasn't the case. I'm not a very observant person, but I could tell how disappointed she was in herself. Not that she felt like she did something wrong, she's not close to admitting that yet. I'm pretty sure she was disappointed because she had let her fans down. I mean, sure, some of them are pretty insane, and probably want to murder her now, and that _would _be pretty scary, but she should be more scared for her health. She should be disappointed because she wasn't being a good role model.

Once they had her in the ambulance, people started leaving. Some of them were following her to the hospital, some were leaving to go tell their friends that they snuck in and saw something cool, and then there were the rest of us, that went inside to get another sandwich. Yeah, that's right, I was the only one left. I mean, I wanted to go, but you know how it is. Getting too close to somebody that hates you isn't that smart. I figure I'll give her some time, maybe go visit once they have her secured in a strait jacket, or in one of those rooms with the soft walls that you couldn't possibly hurt yourself in. I think maybe a strait jacket would be the better choice. That way she couldn't fight off the nurses wielding spoons full of pudding, and might actually get something in her stomach.

I sat in her dressing room, eating, while listening to the silence around me. Well...it wasn't _that_ silent. There were a bunch of security people fighting off the insane fans that refused to leave until they were sure Hannah was okay, and then there were those old guys with the brooms that kept sweeping in one place for like, an hour. But besides that, it was silent. If Miley wasn't talking, it was silent. 

Once we became friends, I'd noticed just how much, and how loud, she talked. Sometimes I wondered if maybe somebody knocked out her teeth, and instead of giving her dentures, installed one of those chattering teeth things. That's how much she talked around me. It was about the most random things too. One second she'd be talked about an interview she had the next morning, and the next second, she'd be talking about vacuums, and then cheese, and then cannibals, and then bananas, and Gwen Stefani, and just weird stuff like that. Not that Gwen Stefani or bananas are weird. I actually met Gwen the other day...and bananas are like, my favorite vegetable...or fruit, or whatever it is.

As the crowd thinned, and nobody came around to tell me I had to leave, I got up and started looking around. When I'd been in the room earlier, I hadn't had much of a chance to really look around. The walls were stark white, and there were a couple of crates in the corner, full of who knows what. There was a small table up against the wall, with the varnish wearing off of it. It had to be at least twenty years old, and despite it's size, looked like it was really heavy. There was a large square mirror over it, but it was covered with a jacket. I recognized the jacket as one of Mileys, and wondered why she would want to cover the mirror. 

It took me a minute to realize that people with a negative self image, like her, probably didn't enjoy looking at themselves much. At least, that was my conclusion...maybe she just forgot her portable coat closet or something. I don't think they make those, but you never know.

There was a ton of makeup on the table, a couple of hair brushes, and a large bucket full of all sorts of hair accessories. There was a small mirror lying face down on the table, with a bottle of water next to it. In the only clear space on the table, where I had set the letters from the fans, was a small stack of CDs. I picked them up and realized they were all Hannah CDs. The covers had all been defaced though. It looked to me like Miley enjoyed defacing Hannah's face when she was angry, just like I did. Somehow, she'd managed to make herself look bad though, something I'd never accomplished. 

I opened one of the CD cases and saw that the CDs had all been broken into little pieces, and pieced together, like a puzzle. I realized then how much she actually hated herself. The fame had finally caught up to her. 

I closed the CD case and set it back on the table, before picking up the letters again. I sat down in the fluffy pink chair, from her dressing room back at the studio, and started to read through all of them.

_Hannah,_

_I was your biggest fan. I went to every concert in my area since I was 10, and have every single one of your CDs. I've always looked up to you, and used to believe that you were a good role model. My mom even agreed with me, and she's very hard to please. Recently though, I've noticed how much weight you've lost. I love your show, and one day I was watching it, and your Orbit commercial came on. Compared to the you in the commercial, the you on the show is tiny. I don't know if maybe you've been stressed out lately or something like that, and that's the reason,but I'm worried, along with all my friends, about your size. You aren't such a great role model anymore, now that you're a size that is almost physically impossible for all the rest of us to mimic. I hope whatever it is that's been up with you stops soon, because I miss being a fan._

_Kate, Chicago IL_

I looked through the rest of the letters and noticed that most of them were the same. Some were marriage proposals, some were hate letters bashing her for no reason, and some were from angry moms, but the rest were from fans, all telling her that they weren't a fan anymore.

I didn't really want to read her mail, but seeing as she had left it out, I didn't see anything stopping me. If it helped her get better, why not read it?

I flipped through them all, each one more sad, and eventually got the one from The BW.

To: Ms. Hannah Montana,

Regarding: Your health and job at The BW

Recently we've been receiving letters from our viewers asking about your health, and complaining about your recent weight loss. People at the studio have been noticing it also, and we, as a company, are worried about you. We feel that you're starting to be a bad role model for the many young people that look up to you.The WB doesn't tolerate bad role models, so we trust that you will try to get healthy again, if you wish to keep your job. 

Wishing you well,

Kathy Turner 

Secretary 

The BW

PS. We hope y

I couldn't read the last sentence, as it had gotten wet. I had a feeling she'd been crying on it. I felt bad for her for a moment, before I decided that she had brought this upon herself, and it was all her fault. I really wanted to be her friend, but as long as _she _didn't want to be her friend, I couldn't. When you don't even like yourself, how can you like anybody else?

I decided not to depress myself anymore, and went home. I guess Lilly had gone to the hospital, she was Miley's best friend, after all. As much as she wasn't welcome, I was probably welcome even less. I figured I would go see her the next day, and give her a while to hate me all by herself. It would also give me some time to buy some armor to protect myself with.

At home, I listened to my brother's reenactment of "The Death of Hannah Montana." His words, not mine. His version involved Lola leaping onstage with a machine gun and putting a couple bullets in her stomach.Trent cried for a couple hours, watching the tv, constantly flipping through the channels, trying to find some news on the matter. 

I just ignored him and went up to my room. I sat on my bed, reading every single book I owned - that would be two - for a couple hours. I got pretty bored, and eventually, at about 4 in the morning, I went to bed. I was tired enough, and actually fell asleep right away. I slept, without dreams,until about 11 the next morning.

When I woke up, I got something to eat, told my mom I was leaving, and endured her lecturing me about how breaking into night clubs during the day when they're closed and there's no security is just as illegal as going at night, when they're open, if you're only 16.

After I finally got away, I got in my car and sat at the end of the driveway for about half an hour, trying to get myself to go to the hospital. When I'd first woke up, I'd called Lilly, and she'd told me that Miley was still in the hospital, so I wasn't sitting there, stalling, because I didn't want to ask if she was there and be told she'd left, although that was definitely one of my fears.

I eventually drove down the street, heading for the hospital. I stopped though, and parked in the parking lot of a television store.I went inside and started walking around, with my sunglasses on, and the hood of my hoodie pulled all the way up. 

"I shouldn't go." 

"She hates me." 

"I'm not welcome there." Those were a couple of ideas I had as to why I wasn't going anywhere.

I noticed then that I was standing in front of a big screen TV, and that our show was playing. It was a scene where Hannah's character was making fun of mine for not being able to talk to his own girlfriend. It was my favorite scene from the episode. Even Barney had been happy with it. He hadn't called me Jack, and he hadn't insulted me, so I'd been pretty happy.

I stared at the screen, and notice how much older than me Hannah looked. Her character was supposed to be about a year older than mine,but I myself was almost five months older than Miley. Sure she was pretty tall, I mean, I bet I've got maybe an inch on her, and I myself am a little above average for a guy my age. She'd never looked that much older to me before though. I wondered if it'd all been makeup, and I hadn't noticed, or if she actually _did _look like that. I'd already proved that I wasn't very observant.I could have a guy in front of me with a red nose, a green afro, and some giant yellow shoes, and I wouldn't notice he was a clown until he yelled "Hey! I'm a clown!"

I eventually decided that my reputation as the most oblivious guy in history would soon change, because I was going to get in my car, drive to the hospital, go to Miley's room, and talk to her. I was going to be her therapist. A therapist without a degree. A very bad therapist, but somebody to talk to, none the less.

I left the store before anybody recognized me, and got in my car. I started down the street, with the radio on, and drove the rest of the way across town. I pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, and made my way to the fourth floor, where Lilly had said Miley's room was. I went up to the nurses station, where a large blonde woman with tons of gray hair was sitting.

"Hey! Aren't you that one kid, off the spy show?" She asked.

"Yeah, that's me, umm...can you-"

"I love your show." She interrupted.

"Thank you, but I'm here to-"

"I watch it every week with my dog. Even the reruns!" She exclaimed, interrupting again.

"I'm glad you like it, but can I possibly-"

"Can I get you're autograph?" She interrupted, one more time.

"If you'll tell me which room is Hannah Montana's,I will sign anything." I said quickly, trying to get my sentence out before she had a chance to interrupt me again. She looked extremely happy at my statement, and smiled at me. She batted her clumped together eyelashes and started going through a notebook on her desk.

"Well...any visible thing." I added. The smile disappeared from her face, and she held out a sticky note in the shape of a dog, and a pen for me to sign it with.

"Room 423." She said, as I signed the paper for her.

"Thank you." I said. I didn't really mean it, she hadn't been that helpful, but I said it anyways. I made my way down the hallway, getting lost twice, before I found room 423. Just as I went inside though, Miley was leaving. Well, I assumed she was leaving.

She was standing in front of a small mirror in the bathroom, of which the door was open. She was adjusting her wig, probably because she couldn't exactly check herself out of Hannah Montana's room if she wasn't Hannah Montana. She saw my reflection in the mirror, and smiled. That's right, she smiled.

"Hey!" She said, as she turned to face me.

"Ummm...hi..." I mumbled, confused. I'd thought she'd be mad at me! But then again, according to the encyclopedia, eating disorders affect your body organs, and the brain is usually one of the first ones to go. It looked to me like she'd finally lost it.

"I was wondering when you'd come see me." She said, as she pulled all of her fake hair over her shoulder.

"Ummm...you were? I mean, the last thing you said to me was "I don't need your help!" Or something like that."

"Yeah..." She said, biting her lip. The eternal happiness radiating from her seemed to disappear, as she frowned.

"About that...I'm really sorry about everything that happened last night...and before...I've just...been having some...crazy days..."

_"Crazy days?" _I asked, sceptically.

"Okay, really really crazy days. I just...well, I'm getting help, isn't that enough? They're making me see this crack-pot therapist 6 days a week."

"They're letting you go?" I asked, as soon as I realized that she was actually leaving the hospital, with permission.Her face changed again, and she looked kind of angry.

"Why are you saying it like that? Do you think I'm too crazy to be alone?" She put her hands on her hips and looked at me with a look that I imagine my future wife will probably look at me with.

"No, no, I just...I mean...you're kinda...sick, don't you...I mean, don't they normally keep people with...with eating disorders...in the hospital for a while...I mean, at least a couple days...?"

"For your information, they all believe I can deal with this on my own. I'm glad to see you don't believe in me!" She yelled at me, before grabbing some of her stuff off the table next to the bed she'd slept in that night, and leaving the room. 

I stood there, watching her leave, and wondered what I'd said. Maybe I had a mental illness. Maybe _I _should be the one in the hospital.

Great. She's mad at me again. When am I ever gonna learn?

**_okay, so that wasn't the greatest, but at least I got something up...I feel like it's going to get better after this, this was just kind of a filler chapter...anyways...review please...ummm, last chapter...46 hits...ha thats horrible...still, that means that 42 of you didn't review! So I'm gonna ask for like, 10 reviews I think...I believe that's fair...it means about 30 of you can still get away with not reviewing...not that you should!_**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**_eight...not ten, but close enough. I need to finish this anyways, so I'm gonna do it no matter how many people refuse to review..._**

_**Disclaimer: If any of this stuff belonged to me, I would have a much nicer keyboard. (Zach **__**belongs to me though, but he's not worth much...sadly)**_

_**

* * *

**_After I left the hospital, I killed myself. Not really, I'm still alive aren't I? I kinda wanted to though. I know for a fact that Miley wanted to.

I don't get how one person can be so full of hatred. Every time I've looked at her recently, her eyes were practically red. She looked so evil I couldn't believe it. She's a demon, I swear. Straight from Hell. I know she was my best friend, at one point, but I don't feel bad saying that anymore.

I need to get more friends. I'm sure there's lots of average people out there that would gladly hang out with me...but when you're famous, it's best to have friends that are just as, if not more, famous that you. That's how you know they like you for you. I don't know what happened with Miley though. I'm pretty sure it's the other way for hatred. Famous people have a reason to hate their competition. Not that we really compete, I mean, she's a singer, and I sound like a dying goat. At least, I think I do. I don't actually sing much. She's got nothing to worry about either way.

Once I got home, I ate some food, answered the phone like, fifty times, turned down playing Barney in the next movie, jumped up and down when I was told I'd been nominated for a PCA, and crashed on the couch to watch tv.

I swear, that demonic girl is in every commercial. She was on a walmart commercial, a yogurt commercial, a Kohl's commercial, a sketcher's commercial, even an Applebee's commercial! Yeah, like _she_eats, wears clothes that fit her, goes to Wal-mart, or wears sketchers. I suspect she just sits in her bathroom with a toothbrush down her throat, wearing a pillowcase all day. She doesn't do things like that.

I kept flipping through the channels, and landed on some countdown thing on VH1. They were talking about Paula Abdul, showing some pretty strange videos. I guess tv isn't too good for you when you're about to fall asleep, because the second I fell asleep, I was launched into this incredibly weird nightmare.

I was in the corner booth at McDonald's, with a giant apple on the table in front of me, which I appeared to be eating with a tennis shoe. Suddenly, this giant disco ball popped out of the ceiling, and this small stage-like thing that looked like that Wal-mart smiley face, popped out of the floor, with Miley on top of it. She had an ice cream cone in her hand, which she was using as a microphone, as she started singing,

"All I wanna do is stay right here on the floor, get lost in the night and dance like there's no tomorrow. Don't care about the sunrise. Somebody please just hit the lights. All I wanna do is dance like there's no tomorrow!"

She was doing the Macarena, while these guys in bee costumes stood behind her, doing the sprinkler.

I looked down at the table, and in place of the gargantuous red apple that had previously been there, there was a large box filled with yogurt. Not containers of yogurt, it was filled with the goopy fruity stuff itself. It was leaking out of the box, so I figured, rather than get it all over myself, I'd throw it at Miley.

So I did. It made her mad though, and she started chasing after me with a giant spork, which she was trying to stab me with. She had me cornered, and was about to murder me, when _I turned into Hannah Montana_. It was horrible. Even in my nightmare, the wig itched. It smelled like tomatoes for some reason.

Then she stabbed me, so I woke up, screaming. That has got to be the weirdest nightmare I'd ever had.

I continued to have weird nightmares for days after that incident. They stopped once I got a call from Barney though, telling me that since Hannah's tour had been canceled, we were going to get a head start on the second season of the show. I didn't really see the reasoning behind it, I mean, why would you want a mentally ill teenage girl to start working before she got help?

I agreed to be there though, so he faxed me the script for the second season premiere, and I spent the week memorizing it, which kept my mind off of Miley.

The Thursday after that, a Hannah-less day, I drove myself over to the studio early and started setting up my dressing room. I was eager to start working, and get my mind of the girl/friend problems I was having.

They finally had everything set up, and we started filming. I messed up my lines about five times, a record for me, before lunch, but I was tired of filming by the time they let us eat. I didn't put much on my plate and just sat in my dressing room, eating a banana by myself, when Jake came in.

I had a burning desire to cross my fingers and ward him off like a vampire, but I had a feeling that doing that would make him angry, or confuse him to the point where his head exploded, and I really didn't want to have to clean my dressing room again.

He leaned against the wall and looked at me for a minute, while I had my fill of potassium, and he finally talked.

"Have you heard from Hannah?"

I swallowed my last bite and tossed the peel into the garbage, before telling him, truthfully,

"Last time I saw her was the day she checked out of the hospital."

"So you haven't talked to her?"

"No." I said, annoyed at his inability to stay in the loop.

"I tried calling her, but every time she'd answer, she'd hang up after I said hello."

Probably because you're so talented you can show people just how stupid, conceited, and unconcerned with other people's feelings you are with just one word, Jake.

"I haven't even tried to call her. She hates me right now...she's so stupid." I told him.

Wait. Hold up. Why am I talking to Jake? Why am I _telling _him things? Here's a couple theories:

**_Reasons I Am Talking To Jake Ryan Like He's My Friend_**

**_1._** I've finally cracked. I'm insane. Nuttier than...something nutty. I was gonna say peanut butter, but peanuts aren't actually nuts...

**2. **He brainwashed me. I'm pretty sure his best attempt would be to shove a toothbrush up my ear and start scrubbing, better you never know. Some people are secretly geniuses.

**3. **I'm so desperate to slam Hannah that I'm willingly talking to a guy I hate just so I can talk about her. Oh great. I'm a high school girl.

**4. **I have that disease where you can't shut up. Wait...that's not a disease. It should be though, there's a lot of girls that have that problem.

I decided that, as much as I don't want to admit it, Number 3 was probably the most reasonable explanation.

"Yeah...I feel bad for her though." Jake sort of muttered.

"Why?" I asked, in that same annoyed tone I used before.

"Well, she's just under a lot of pressure, being who she is and all, I means she's writing all the songs for her next album herself, and I guess it's taking a long time...so she's about to lose her contract...The BW wants to fire her...she's getting trashed by like, every magazine there is. Everybody's just, against her, that's all..."

"If you even start to say "I think I love her", I'll throw up." I finally said, after my voice finally forced itself up from the back of my throat.

"Oh, no, no, that's not what I meant...I just...all I was saying is that she's got a hard life, and I feel sorry for her." Jake said.

I sort of wondered how Jake knew all of this, I mean, it wasn't like they had a heart to heart in the bedroom on the set, I mean, during the first season, Miley always said that every time they had a scene together, she wanted to kill him by the time they moved on from my scenes. I had a couple ideas about them, I'd never really known why Miley hated Jake so much.

**Reason's Why Jake Ryan Knows More About My (ex)Best Friend Than I Do**

**1. **They're secretly married. Maybe she pretends to hate him so people won't suspect them.

**2. **Jake Ryan can read minds. Maybe he's an alien. I've heard they can do those kind of things.

**3. **He's a spy. I'm not very observant, and I hardly ever listened to anything Miley was saying, and she was more interested in finding a good place to throw up, so I wouldn't be surprised if he was following us.

**4**. She's already said all this, for anybody to hear, and I just didn't listen.

I'm guessing, sadly, that it's the 4th one. I mean, Miley's pretty good at acting, for a pop star, but it's pretty hard to act like you hate somebody when you actually like them. I learned that in kindergarten, back when people actually knew who I was. I'm not gonna go into detail.

"Ummm...I think I'll go now...and just so you know...if you tell anybody that I got all mushy and was concerned for another human being...I'll sneak into your bedroom and break your fingers while you were sleeping." Jake said, before leaving my dressing room.

I wonder why I hate Jake so much...OH, that's why!!

I think he was kidding...I _hope_ he was kidding. Gulp.

I sat in the folding deck chair I had in the corner of my dressing room for about ten minutes, sort of scared to leave the room by myself. It's times like this I wish I was still friends with Miley. Not that she'd be here today even if she didn't have a dire need to kill herself faster. She just sort of, scares people away, she pretty handy to have around.

Not that I couldn't handle Jake myself, I'd just rather let him leave unharmed. Ha.

Eventually I went back out on the set, and we got ready to start filming again. We were all in our places, me in a straight-backed armchair, Joe and Denise on the couch next to my chair, with Jake in an armchair identical to mine, straight across from them.

I was slouched over, staring off into space, while Barney insulted the camera man for his "unsteady hands, horrible posture, and inability to stand still."

"Hey, Zach, have you heard from Hannah?" A woman's voice asked, from my left. I sat up and looked around. It was Denise. She was actually talking to me. Weird, I always thought she hated us "kids" I'd always wanted to point out to her that I was 16, and therefore, I was a teenager, and that at the movie theatre, I'm an adult.

And she was asking about Hannah! I mean, Miley always seemed to be the reason for Denise's intolerance. Why was she asking me anyways? Why does everybody keep asking _me? _It's not like she stores her brain in my head, I mean, how on earth do they expect me to know how she's doing?

"What?" I asked, just to be sure that I heard her right.

"Have you heard from Hannah. I'm kinda worried about her. You guys _are _my second family."

"Why does everybody keep asking me? How would I know?" I asked, kind of loudly. Denise sat back in her seat, obviously surprised at my outburst.

"Sorry...I just thought...well, I knew you two were really close, so I thought you might know." She told me, sounding concerned.

"Uck, can we save this mushfest for later? Like, after I leave?" Jake asked, annoyed. Denise turned to me and said,

"Thank god_ he_ doesn't play my son." I laughed, and Jake scowled at me. I'm pretty sure he's having a bad day. As impossible as it sounds, he's normally not this stuck up.

We finished filming the opening scene, where Jake's character tried to convince Joe and Denise's characters that he loved their daughter. It sounds mushy, but let's just say Jake's character's convinciation capability is about equal to his own.

We wrapped it up early that day, apparently the director, casting director, and the producer were having a meeting considering what they'd do about the demonic actress with an eating disorder problem they were dealing with. Barney wanted to keep her on, the casting director wanted to change the plot line so that something would happen to her character, and the producer wanted to replace her.

I didn't really want her to be replaced, but she couldn't be on the show until she gained weight. I'm not so sure what Barney's idea was, I mean, if he tried to put a fat suit on her to make her look normal sized...she'd never get over her current problem, and we'd just have to kill off Andrea.

I tried to clear my mind and left the studio. On the way home though, I started thinking about what Denise had said.

We had been really close, I mean, she was my best friend...she still is, we're just...having old married couple problems, that's what it is. I needed to talk to her. If there was ever a time you needed your friends, this was it.

I turned my car around and headed straight to Miley's house. I was going to fill this gap between us.

**_gosh, this is short lol...I'm sorry...I'm just really hungry, and I can't really go any further without having to go waaaaaaaay further, and then this would be too long, so this is what you're getting. Be happy though, I promise I will update this soon...I won't take as long for the next chapter as I did for this one..._**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**_I'm having a major stupid moment right now, so I apologize if anything I say doesn't make sense...cause I totally just realized that there's fruit in a fruit smoothie...so I apologize for having an IQ way too low for the likes of you guys, but hey, I can't help it. I was born blonde._**

**_Disclaimer: I just admitted that I'm stupid, do you really want me to admit that I don't own the show either? _**

Once I quit having my teenage girl, drama queen attack, I started breathing normally, and put my foot on the gas. I'm pretty sure the people behind me were about to throw a party, as I'd been holding them up for almost an entire two minutes. I headed down the road, listening to the radio, acting like this was just a normal day, when, in all actuality, it was not. Not that any day in the life of a weirdo like me can be normal, but you know what I mean.

I stopped my car on the corner, and tried to open the door, but, much to my dismay, it wouldn't open. After fiddling with the handle for an entire 56 seconds, I realized that it wasn't opening because I hadn't unlocked the door. This was starting out great. I'll probably try to walk through her living room window next, instead of the door.

I successfully got out of the car, without hurting myself, and got to Miley's front door without stubbing my toe. Not even once. I knocked on the door, and was greeted with "You have hands, open it yourself." I did as I was told, and entered the house, where I saw Miley's brother Jackson, sprawled out on the couch watching what looked like a women's channel movie. He abruptly switched to wrestling, when he caught me staring, and commented on a body slam, when, in fact, one had not been executed in the few seconds he'd been watching the screen.

"Umm...is...Miley here?" I asked, tilting me head, probably making myself look extremely stupid. Jackson sat up, and, with his legs together, hands in his lap, and therapist expression on his face, he asked,

"Why, do you want to see her?"

"No. I asked because I'm doing a survey to see how many people with the name Miley are at home at approximately 5:30 this Thursday night." I said sarcastically. Okay, so I didn't say that. I actually said something completely normal and boring like "Umm, yes."

"Cool." He said, before spreading back out on the sofa.

"Ummm, so_ is_ she?"

"I don't know. Do I look like a stalker to you?" He replied, before his eyes darted from the tv to my face.

"Don't answer that." He quickly added.

"Umm, okay." I said. I say umm way too much. If it were a word, I would eliminate it from my personal craniological dictionary, but unfortunately, it's not, so I can't.

"She's probably upstairs, its not like she goes anywhere." Jackson finally revealed, extending his arm in the direction of the staircase.

"Um-thanks." I said, before heading the direction he was pointing. I climbed up each silent step, before reaching the top, which appeared to be at the end of a naturally sun-lit, medium sized, floral wallpapered hallway. There was a large painting that didn't really fit in with the wallpaper directly across from me, and perpendicular to it on the left side, was the only open door, with a window parallel to it.

There was a weird rumbling noise issuing from that direction, so I figured that_ that _must be her room. I hadn't seen her dad's car in the driveway, otherwise I would've thought the sound was him. It was extremely loud, and completely unladylike, but somehow, I could still imagine it coming from Miley. The purple, aqua blue, and dark orange paint cans sitting outside the door on top of some newspapers, however, gave away the gender of the occupant of the room.

I went down the hallway, and paused in the doorway. Miley was on her back, stretched out diagonally on top of the shiny orange bedspread covering her bed, sounding like a fog horn. Her head was hanging off the corner of the mattress, and her mouth was open far enough that you probably could've easily stuffed a softball in there without waking her. Since her face was unsuccessfully defying gravity, her cheeks had slid further up her face, - or down, it depends on what way you're looking at her - and her upper lip was rubbing against the bottom of her nose with every loud breath.

I knocked on the open door, loud enough to be heard over the incessant rumbling of whatever animal was nesting in the back of her throat, and waited while she woke up. She rubbed her nose a couple times, before turning over and tossed her long hair back, over the top of her head. She looked up at me and immediately pushed her top half up, pulling her knees underneath, so that she was sitting up. The girl was definitely flexible. Either that or her stomach acid had gotten bored, burned through the lining of her stomach, and dissolved all of her bones.

"Hey." I said, still standing in the doorway. She continued to stare at me. I noticed, relieved, that her eyes looked completely normal. Unrelated to the devil in every way, just like they used to be. She looked confused, but definitely not mad. That was a good sign. I hadn't prepared a will yet, and I hadn't planned on dying here. There hadn't been much thought involved in turning my car around.

"Hello." She finally murmured. I didn't know what to say, so I looked around her room for a minute, brainstorming for the oral apology essay that was due. I'd never been too good at speeches. Other people usually write mine for me.

Her walls were split in two by a chair rail in an orange that matched her bedspread, with little bits of a gold color in all the nooks, (that's definitely an old lady word. I'm never saying that again) and the large part of the wall, the top half, was the extremely light, almost white, (Ha that rhymes. Nevermind.) blue-green color from the paint can in the hallway. The lower, smaller half was the purple color, a sort of red-violet. She had some white, sheer drapes on her windows, and the gold color from the chair rail covered the abnormally large closet doors on the right side of the room. It was, to say the least, colorful, what with all the multi-colored pillows covering the bed, and sprawled across the floor next to the bed.

There was also a dark wooden desk against one of the walls, with a closed laptop, a vase full of dead flowers, and a small desk lamp on top of it. There was a guitar leaning against the wall next to it, and a couple of old, ripped up notebooks were on the floor in front of it.

"I uh...I'm here to apologize." I finally told her. She ran her fingers through her hair again, and crossed her ankles.

"I...well, I've been a really crappy friend..." I started. Everything finally took place in my head, and I knew what to say. It started pouring out like syrup on pancakes. Bad analogy, I know, but I'm trying to get a point across, okay?

"I mean, I think I knew you were sick a long time ago...but it never really...clicked...I should've stuck by you though, no matter how much stuff you threw at me, or how much you yelled, or embarrassed me in front of your entire school...I just wanted to say...that I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, and if I had a time machine, I'd go back in time and I would be." I looked down at the shadow I was making on her floor. The sun was setting, and it was shining directly through the window behind me. I must look pretty sexy from her position right now. Kidding! I was kidding. Even though it's true. Ha.

Miley was squinting at me, casually biting her lip.

"I give you permission to throw something at me, if you want...just as long as it's not lethal." I told her, trying to get her to smile, or frown, or look angry. Just as long as she showed some kind of emotion.

Her bottom lip slipped out of the grip of her teeth, and she leapt off the bed, like a tiger, or a kangaroo, or whatever animal it is that jumps really far, and slammed into me, shoving me against the doorframe, which kind of hurt. She was giving me this huge, rib-crunching hug, and it was starting to get hard to breath. I couldn't tell if she was actually hugging me, or if this was an attempt at murder.

"Uh, Miley?" I squeaked. She let go and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Umm, yeah...sorry." She finally said, looking embarrassed.

"No, it's okay, I just...like to breath." I said. She rolled her eyes and looked away, but I could tell she was cracking up on the inside. I'm just that funny. Ha.

"So now that we've established that I'm not very good at apologizing, and you're not very good at hugging...what now?" I asked, shaking my hair out of my eyes.

"How about...cake!" She decided. I was somewhat surprised at how rapidly she'd decided eating was not a colossal sin.

"Are you sure?" I asked, realizing, only after I said it, how unsure of her feeding abilities I sounded.

"Do _you _think I can?" She asked me, looking not quite as aware as I had been at how I sounded.

"Yes. I do." I told her.

"Good, 'cause I_ really _want some cake." She said, before brushing past me on her way out of the room. I followed her down the flowered hallway, and down to the kitchen, where she cut herself a small piece of a large chocolate cake sitting on the counter.

Jackson wasn't on the couch anymore. I didn't know, nor care, where he was. I was just secretly glad he wasn't there. He kind of freaks me out.

"You want some?" Miley asked me, glancing up at me for about one second.

"Sure." I said, as I took my place directly behind her. She cut me a piece twice the size of hers, and handed it to me, along with a fork. She set hers on the island, leaned against the counter, and took a bite. I set mine between the burners on the stove, across from her, and did the same thing. About three bites into her cake, her expression had changed, and now, when she didn't think I was looking, she kept staring at me. She seemed to be having some kind of internal battle. No doubt she was. You can't exactly get over this kind of thing in two days. She finally set the fork down, with half of her cake left, and set her elbows on the counter. She stared at me while I finished chewing, and when I did, I asked,

"You're not gonna finish that?" I stared right into her eyes, like I could hypnotize her and get her to eat the rest. If I had hynosis skills, the world would be either really great, or a total disaster, I can't decide which.

"Why, you want it?" She asked, as she straightened her spine and started playing with the fork.

"You need to eat it." I said, smiling at her. No reason to frown at a mentally unstable teenage girl. Their hormones _already _make them crazy.

"No, I don't. I'm good." She lied to me, before pushing the plate away.

"No, you're not _good. _You need cake!" I teased, smiling at her.

"I can't eat it Zach." She told me, laughing silently, as she set the fork down on the counter and moved her hand away. I grabbed the fork before she could start playing with it again.

"Yes you can. It's cake. Everybody needs cake." I told her, scooping up some of it with her fork, and aiming it at her.

"There's a reason they call chocolate cake Devil's Food, Zach. Jesus is my friend, I don't want to betray him by eating the neighborhood bully's favorite food." She said, smiling at me, like I was joking.

"You already started it." I said, as I circled the counter. She started backing the other direction, as I honed in on her with my cake weapon.

"Zach, I really don't want it. Please don't make-" I interupted her by shoving the fork full of cake into her open mouth. She didn't spit it out, she knew I'd just make her eat it off the floor if she did that. I watched her, as she refrained from chewing, and looked around the room for what I'm guessing was a way to get rid of it. She looked really angry. It was just cake, I mean, what was wrong with that? She'd been all for it just a couple minutes ago.

I was watching her, waiting for her to kill me or something equally painful, but she didn't do that. I was, to say the least, surprised, when she lunged at me and planted her lips on mine.

If you were any place other than my mouth, this might seem romantic, but if you were, say, one of my taste buds, this would be really disgusting, since she definitely just spit that cake into my mouth. I pulled away from her, and quickly spit it out on her paper plate on the counter, before turning back to her. She looked like she was trying not to laugh. I wasn't sure whether I should be mad at the extent she went to to keep herself from eating that cake, or disgusted that she spit it into my mouth.

"That was disgusting." I finally said, laughing. She finally quit restraining herself, and started to laugh too.

"I told you I didn't want it!" She said, looking at me, with a now, serious, look on her face.

"Well maybe I didn't want it either." I replied, leaning against the countertop.

"Maybe I didn't want to kiss you." She said, stepping towards me. I didn't say anything. I couldn't agree with that one. I just stared at her, as she stepped towards me. In about three seconds, she was maybe a whole inch away from me. My eyesight was going bad, and I couldn't pay any attention to what was going on around me. That's pretty unlucky, considering what she was actually doing was grabbing the remainder of her cake. Next thing I knew, she was smashing it into my face, with a satisifed smile on hers.

**_i so stretched out that last part lol, I wanted to end it there, but didn't know what else to write about...sorry it's short though, i can't really think anymore, my brain's kinda dead _**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

_**lol, I have exactly 41000 words in the story...before this chapter of course...not 41001..41000 **exactly**...weird...**_

**_Must...finish...story...

* * *

_**

"Alright, there was no need for that." I announced, through my chocolate cake mask. I wiped some of it off with my fingers, and grabbed a towel to get rid of the rest. She didn't say anything, but started to laugh.

"Okay, it wasn't _that _funny."

She kept laughing though, and laughing, and laughing, and now she's freaking me out. I don't think she's taken a breath yet...what if she hyperventilates or something? What would I do? CPR? You do CPR when people aren't breathing, right?

Finally, she stopped, out of breath, and said,

"Sorry..that was really weird."

"You bet it was...I was afraid you were gonna stop breathing...and I don't know CPR, so you would've been out of luck."

"Right...note to self: Never drown near Zach."

I smirked at her, just as her phone rang. The smile that had been on her face disappeared, and she looked terrified.

"What? What's wrong?" I asked, scared. This was gonna end up just like When A Stranger Calls. Unfortunately, she'd probably be the babysitter, and I'd probably end up as her dead friend.

"It's them...they're calling to fire me, I just know it. No, no, no, no, no, no." She kept repeating herself, as she climbed over the back of the couch and grabbed her phone off the coffee table.

"Uhh...hello?" She asked, clenching her fist so tightly I expected blood to start leaking out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, dad told me...yeah, I understand, I know...oh...you are?" She looked relieved, and looked over at me. She smiled at me, so I wiped the last of the cake off my face and sat down on the couch next to her.

"I will?...Really?...Yeah, yeah that's obvious...I promise you I will...thank you so so much!...Bye!" She looked really happy now, as she slowly set the phone down.

"I still have my job!!" She shrieked, before pulling me into a bear hug. She stood up on the couch and started bouncing on the cushions, shrieking "I didn't get fired, I didn't get fired!!"

I was getting dizzy, watching her go _up_ and _down,_ and _up_ and _down_, and up and down and up and down. Eventually I just reached out and grabbed her foot. She fell backwards onto the couch, and gave me a dirty look.

"Ow! That hurt!"

"Sorry...I was getting nauseous." I apologized. "So what did they say?"

"Oh, just that they're going to just, leave my character out of the show for a while, and focus on yours. They said as long as I..." The happy expression faded, and she looked embarrassed. "Gain weight...they won't fire me." She finished.

"Well that's good...you're still coming by the studio though, right? If you leave me with Jake and Mikayla, I'd probably shoot myself in the foot...and then shoot _you_ in the foot for bringing me to it."

"Well thanks a lot, that doesn't make me question your sanity." She said sarcastically, smirking at me. She got up from the couch and grabbed a glass of water off the counter in the kitchen, next to the sink.

"I'll have to ask my dad, but I'll try to stop by."

"But if he says no, you'll still sneak out the back door while he's not looking and go anyways, right?" I asked, following her into the kitchen.

"_Of course._" She answered, setting her glass back down.

"Good."

She leaned against the counter for a minute and looked at me, while drumming her fingers on the counter, in a tune I recognized, but couldn't name.

"Zach?" She asked, staring right through me.

"Yeah?" I asked, not looking, as I rested my elbows on the counter next to hers. She turned to look at me, and said,

"Thank you for coming here. God knows I should be the first one to apologize, but I couldn't bring myself to do it...You're a lot braver than me, and...well, I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me...and...well...never mind...I'll tell you later." She looked back down at the counter, with a thoughtful look on her face.

"So...are you trying to apologize for pouring water on my head?" I asked her, smiling.

"and yelling and...was it you I threw the spatula at?" She asked, looking at me again. I shook my head no, so she continued. "Then I need to apologize to Lilly...but what I'm trying to say, is that I'm sorry, for everything."

"Appology accepted." I said, looking down at the spot on the counter she was staring at again. She flicked a crumb across the countertop, while neither of us said anything. The clock on the wall behind us clicked, signaling another minute had passed, and she rested her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my right arm around her and squeezed. We sat there, waiting for another click, neither of us saying a word.

"I'm gonna call Lilly." Miley announced, pulling herself out of my grip. She reached for her phone, and flipped it open.

"Okay, I guess I better go then...I'll see you later." I told her, standing up straight.

"Okay...bye." She said, before leaning in and, once again, surprising me, this time with a kiss on the cheek. I headed for the door, just as she started dialing Lilly's number.

"Lilly? It's Miley...I'm so glad you answered...I didn't expect you to...I know I wouldn't have..." I heard her say, as the door swung shut behind me.

I climbed into the driver's seat of my car, and drove away, thinking about maybe apologizing to my brother for all the mean things I'd ever said. I decided not to, but it's the thought that counts, right?

I pulled into my driveway, noting that both of my parents' cars were gone, and turned off my own car. I shoved the keys into my pocket, and climbed out, before heading inside.

The second the door opened, I was practically blown back outside, by, the Jonas Brothers, whose voices were blasting through the house. I'm only guessing it was the Jonas Brothers, it was so loud I couldn't understand a word. That's all Trent listens to anymore though, and he's the only one home, so unless the hamster learned how to turn on the radio...

I just rolled my eyes and screamed,

"TURN IT DOWN!!" Trent turned down the volume a tiny bit, which I pegged as the best it was going to get. I walked into the kitchen and tossed my keys and cell phone onto the counter, next to the home phone, before I started looking through the cupboards for something to eat.

Just as I took out a cookie, the music stopped.

"Zach?" Trent called. "Is that you?"

"...No, it's the Hamburglar. I'm here to steal your beef." I said sarcastically, as he rounded the corner. He sat down on one of the bar stools as I opened the refrigerator, while I shoved my cookie into my mouth, so I'd have my hands free to take out a can of Pepsi and close the doors.

I opened the can, took the cookie out of my mouth, and listened to the Pepsi fizz for a minute, before I took a bite of chocolate chip. I noticed that Trent was still sitting there, staring at me.

_"What_?" I asked him.

"Are you and Hannah still friends?" He asked me, setting his elbows down on the counter and resting his chin in his hands.

"Yeah...why do you ask?" I asked him, suspiciously.

"No reason..." He told me, before slipping out of his chair and heading back to his room. Talk about a pointless visit.

"I think you guys are gonna get married." He said, stopped on the corner, before he ran back down the hallway, singing "Zach and Hannah, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-I-N-G!" I resisted the urge to tell him he spelled kissing wrong, and took another bite out of my cookie, staring at the corner he had disappeared behind.

Ha. _Married? Us? _Funny Trent, real funny. Like she'd ever marry _me._

**Things Hannah Montana Will Never Ever Do In A Million Years**

**1. **Run over a hobo with a shopping cart filled with raw fish.

**2. **Announce to the world that she's madly in love with Jake Ryan. At least, I _hope_ she never does that...

**3**. Record a reggae duet with Ellen DeGeneres.

**4**. Marry me!

Just as I finished listing, the radio started again, louder than before.

"TURN IT DOWN!!" I yelled again. He lowered the volume a little more than he had last time, so that now, I could finally understand the words.

"How can I prove my love, if they all think I'm not good enough" rang down the hallway, just as my phone started ringing. I picked it up off the counter, and saw Miley's name on the screen. She usually called me from the Hannah phone, and then said maybe two words the entire time, so this was a rare phone call.

"Hello?" I asked, sitting down on the bar stool Trent had been sitting on moments before.

"Hey Zach..." She said, yawning. The radio down the hall got a little louder, so for the third and final time, I yelled, "TURN IT DOWN YOU LITTLE PIG!!"

"What?" Miley asked,in a surprised tone.

"No, not you, I was talking to Trent, just a minute, hold on." I explained, as Trent came back into the kitchen.

"What?" He asked me, as the radio screamed some song I didn't know.

"I said, turn it down. Do you want to be deaf before you hit puberty?" I asked him, holding the phone to my chest.

"Fine...I'll just turn it off." He sneered, slinking back down the hallway. The sound ceased, and I held the phone up to my ear again.

"Sorry about that..." I apologized, before ignoring anything she might be possibly be saying, and listening to the sound coming from the other end.

"I'll be there forever. You will see that it's better. All our hopes and our dreams will come true. I will not disappoint you. I will be right there for you 'til the end, the end of time. Please be mine." I recognized the song, since it had _just _been playing, at a deafening level, in my own house.

"What are you listening to?" I asked her, as I plopped down on the couch.

"Oh...yeah...well, I have three copies of this CD, one from each of them...and I'm bored, so I figured I might as well use at least one of them..." She said quietly.

"It's weird, Trent was _just _playing that song..."

"Really?" She asked, in a more, trying-to-make-conversation tone.

"Yeah..." I said, trying to think of something to say.

"Okay, well, listen, I've been working on this song, and I just now finished it...so I was thinking maybe...you could tell me what you thought?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay..." She said, before I heard a couple clunking noises, and she started playing what sounded like the acoustic guitar. I listened for a minute, and the music stopped.

"This is kinda weird...I don't know if you're listening or not." She told me.

"I am, don't worry." I assured her, picking up the remote and turning the tv on. I hit the mute button, and listened, as she started playing again. Once again, she stopped.

"You've got to understand that I was really depressed when I wrote most of this." She told me.

"I do, Miley, I'm sure it's great. Don't worry, just play."

"Okay...but, It's kind of a...crazy song, you know? Like I'm talking to myself?"

"Just play it Miley. I already know you're crazy, no song's gonna change that." I assured her, joking.

"Thanks..._that _makes me feel better." She said, sarcastically, before she finally started playing the guitar again.

"The words you say are so mean. The way they cut…the way they hurt me. As if I am never good enough for you. Something in the way, the way you walk, and the way you talk, I'm sorry that you feel sorry for me. And I'm sorry to say it.

Why can't you be there? Why can't you even care? Why can't life be fair? Why am I never good enough?

You set me up to fall down, to hit the ground running. While all the time coming was the biggest fall of all. I lost control, seemed to have lost my soul. You tried to take away my dream. I had in hand, my only goal, That thing you forced away from me. Can't you see that's all I'll ever be?"

She stopped playing for a minute, and said,

"There's more...I just...what do you think?"

"I think it's brilliant. The way you're sort of...I don't know, coming to terms with yourself? It's beautiful. So...what's it called?"

"I was thinking Self Analysis...that sounds stupid now though...but you know, my fans are younger then me...they probably wouldn't understand it...I'm not sure I even want to record it...it'd just be...over their heads..." She started babbling.

"No, that's perfect. Confuse them, that'll be great. They'll understand how much you've been thinking about it and stuff...You _have _to record that. To heck with stupid preteens! You don't need them!"

"Umm, Zach...almost _all _of my fans are preteens..so technically I _do _need them..."

"Are you sure there aren't some senior citizens in your fan club?"

"I'm pretty sure..." She assured me.

"Hmm..."

"You having fun acting smart?" She asked me, as I was thinking of something to say.

"What? _Acting? _I _am _smart."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." She joked.

"Very funny. At least I don't talk to myself."

"Are you changing your mind about the song then?" She asked. I couldn't tell if she was serious or not.

"Of course I'm not. I really don't care _what _you call it. I just like the beat."

"Thanks..so I think I'm gonna go ask somebody who actually knows what they're talking about..." She said, jokingly.

"I know what I'm talking about!" I argued.

"Sure you do...bye Zach."

She hung up and I stared at my phone for a minute.

I _do too _know what I'm talking about.

**_okay, so that chapter wasn't funny...I can't do it anymore, okay? I'm trying to just, finish this...I have so many ideas that I know I can't follow through with until I'm finished with this._**


	20. Chapter Twenty

**_Okay, so I've been away from the keyboard for a while...and from this story even longer...but there's not much left, I'm ALMOST done...I just am only in the mood to write when I'm in bed, and there's no way in hell I'm getting out of it to write...so I'm sorry..._**

* * *

I sat on my couch after she hung up on me, trying to decide what to do. My in-box was filled with text messages from people I probably don't even know...I could read them...but half of them are probably stalkers, and if I responded to their creepy messages, they'd probably show up at my door and molest me or something. Ew, bad mental picture...I don't want to be molested...at least not by creepy stalkers...yeah, I'm not saying anything anymore.

...

To get my mind off of the nasty picture in my head, I itched my ear, which turned out to be filled with chocolate cake...Thanks a lot Miley. Now I have to take a shower.

Speaking of Miley...

Okay, this is going to sound gross, and extremely perverted. No, wait, I'm not gonna say it, somebody will find out this thought was in my head, and they'll banish me to the Bermuda Triangle, where the evil cult of chain message senders living there will shoot me with a machine gun, and leave me for dead. Which might be a good thing, because that did not make ANY sense.

Okay, I can't keep myself from saying this. She can molest me any day. There! Done, the end, goodbye. Well, I can't say goodbye, but my point is, I'm never thinking that again, because it's sorta disgusting, and perverted, and completely, one hundred percent true. I'm a pervert, happy?

I decide_ not _to take a shower, mostly because seeing myself naked would make me think of _her_ naked, and then I'd think that thought again...and I don't wanna do that, because I never want to be a child molester, and I guess if your bad thoughts get really bad when you're young, you end up completely messed up...I read that in a magazine once...in an article about Michael Jackson.

Besides not wanting to be a sex offender when I'm 40...I have other reasons for not wanting to take a shower. One, laziness. I mean, it's not like I'm going anywhere. I can be dirty in my own house, can't I? Who do I have to impress? Nobody, that's who. Because the only girl who will kiss me only does it to rid her mouth of cake. I mean, I like cake, if she wants to do that, go ahead...she just needs to wait until a time when she doesn't have a serious eating disorder. Alright, I'm straying towards those thoughts again...I'm going to stop.

Reason number two. I'm out of shampoo, and who wants to take a shower went you can't 'poo your hair up? I mean, _sham_poo your hair up. My mind is fried, I swear, Miley sent serious brain-killing rays through the phone, and now I'm going brain dead, like the kids in China that lick backpacks made with lead. I don't know who would lick a backpack, I mean, unless it had somebody's face on it. If I were five, and didn't care what went in my mouth, and Miley's face was on a backpack, maybe I would lick it, but then I'd be brain dead because of all the lead poisoning and I'd die with her thinking I'm a creep. It'd also be kinda sad, 'cause she'd be five too, which means she most likely _wouldn't _have her face on a backpack.

Okay, moving on. Enough licking...

Reason number three...there is no reason number three. I think laziness pretty much covers it...I'm too lazy to come up with a reason number three, that's the thing.

So away from my perverted mind we go, on to the world with actions, and no thoughts. At least, no thoughts you can hear.

In this amazing universe that is so unlike the movies, where you don't know what people are saying unless you are them, they say it out loud, or because of some freaky science lab accident, you can read minds...uh, what was I saying? Oh, right. In this amazing universe where blah blah blah, my mom and Trent came home, bursting through the door as loudly as possible, trying to rap or something.

Mom was like, beat-boxing, or something really embarrassing that makes me really really glad that I don't have my own reality show taping this, and Trent was going "Big Mac...Big Mac..." It was extremely disturbing, albeit sort of good. I hate to admit that my mother would be able to make even _one _dollar as a beat-boxer, but she could. Trent on the other hand...has no future as a rapper. Eminem can rest in peace. I wish _I _could rest in peace.

Mom screeched at me, trying to get me to help her unload the groceries or something, but seeing as I am lazy, I refused. I just sat there and pretended I couldn't hear. After a while, though, she figured out I wasn't deaf, yet, and got really mad, and yelled at me for like, an hour. If I wasn't deaf yet, I am now. I probably will be soon, Trent can be pretty loud. Maybe I'll end up like that chick in Million Dollar Baby. No wait, she was paralyzed...I should remember that, I just watched that movie like, a day ago.

After my hearing came back, once mom left the room, my phone rang. I have faith that you can guess who it is, considering there is a grand total of one person that ever calls me. I should give my number to the entire world. Maybe then two people would call me. They'd probably tell me I was gay or something, and berate me for my clothing choices. Not that I can help what I wear, with Little Miss Bossy redoing my entire wardrobe.

"Hello?" I asked, like I didn't know who it was. I definitely did, I mean, I can read, her name flashed on the screen, I'm not retarded, and my predicting skills are halfway decent.

"Zach...I need to talk to you..." She whispered, so that I could barely hear her over the beat-boxing going on in the room behind me.

"Miley?" I asked, which was something really incredibly stupid to say, I mean, duh.

"Zach, I'm the only person that ever calls you. Who else would it be?" She asked. How did she know she was the only person I ever had telephone conversations with?

"You are _not _the only person that ever calls me." Lie. "I have a lot of friends, for your information." Another lie.

"Whatever Pinocchio, just make sure you don't poke a hole in your phone with the giant snoz you're growing."

"What? Why are you calling me? Is your only joy in life found in insulting me? Some friend you are." I said, sarcastically.

"Uh, I do _not _insult you, you _do_ have a big nose." She defended herself. She just kept going on and on and on with excuses for all the times she'd insulted me, most of which I don't remember.

"Is that okay?" She finished. I didn't know what she was talking about, I hadn't exactly been listening. I tuned her out after "It was opposite day, I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." I said, deciding that I'd find out what she was talking about later, before I beat her to hanging up.

Just as my phone convo ended, the mother-son rap team barged into the living room. Trent ripped the remote out from under me, giving me a major rug burn...remote burn...whatever, in the process, before slamming his huge monkey butt down on the couch with such force I was surprised it didn't break.

Mom went to the kitchen and started making dinner, which consisted of something green, pink, and blue. I swear, it looked like the Easter bunny had thrown up in that pot. It smelled that bad too.

Mom kept looking up at me, probably wondering why I was staring at her. I didn't really have anything better to do. Eventually though, she saw the chocolate in my ear, complained about how gross it is to rub "feces" in your ears, and made me take a shower. I wasn't planning on getting up and actually doing it, but seeing as she came after me with some salad tossing tongs...and threatened to pull my nose off with them, I did. In my profession, I sort of need a nose...

So with much yelling and forcing on her end, and much begging and refusing on mine, I got in the shower, and rinsed out my ears. I just about fell asleep, too. I was extremely tired.

While I was grabbing the shampoo, I saw this HUGE spider sitting in the corner, staring at me with it's beady little spider eyes. Okay, so it was actually pretty tiny, I lied. I was uncomfortable either way, what with the fact that an eight-legged insect was in my shower, looking at me naked. I mean, this isn't a porno, can't a guy take a shower in private?

I wanted to smash it, but I didn't feel like cleaning it off the bottom of the shampoo bottle, plus I wouldn't feel any more comfortable with dead spider guts staring at me. Not that guts can stare...

So I stood there, for like, ten whole minutes, trying to decide what to do. I ended up pulling the cap off of the bottle of body wash on the shelf next to me, filling it with water, and, while balancing myself with a foot on each side of the tub, pouring it on top of the spider. It fell down into the bottom of the tub, where I positioned the shower head so that it drowned the stupid thing. It took forever, but eventually, it was gone. I swear, if that thing climbs up the drain and bites me, I'm gonna be so effing mad, not to mention completely grossed out, and possibly disease inflicted.

So once my spider war was over, I went back to washing my hair, soaping myself up, and all that other crap you do in the shower. When I finished, I climbed out, on the lookout for the army of spiders that would no doubt want to avenge their brother's death, and grabbed a towel. It was pink, but seeing as my mom can't do laundry, and puts her white towels in with her red towels, there was nothing I could do about it, unless I wanted to run to Wal-mart naked and buy some green or blue ones there.

I decided not to get arrested for public indecency, and left the bathroom in my lovely pink towel, nearly running into a brick wall of oh my god, on the way out. Yeah, I'm using analogies, so what? By the way, the brick wall I'm talking about it Miley. Who was standing there fully clothed, while I, was not. T clear things up, I'd like to say that she is made completely of human flesh and blood and water and stuff, not bricks. So to make this whole situation even more embarrassing, I dropped the towel in shock. I really did. I _totally _did not do that on purpose, no matter how much that happened in those wacky fantasy dreams.

She shreiked and closed her eyes, turning around so I could pick up the towel, which I did. Because I'm sixteen, and not a porn star. People like me do this sort of thing all the time. Not that people actually drop their pink towels in front of girls like this, all the time, I just mean...You know what? Who knows what I mean? I'm gonna quit talking.

...

So I grabbed the towel and wrapped it back around me, before appologizing to her in my equally embarrassing squeaky voice.

"Oh, no, it's okay. It was my fault, I scared you." She said, turning back around.

"Umm...did you tell me you were coming over?" I asked, thinking that I'd probably been warned over the phone. This is the LAST time I tune her out over the phone. She could say something important, like "Hey, there's pizzas down at Kelly's for a dollar, and they're almost out!" Yeah, I like Kelly's pizza. That place is awesome, even if the cashier _does _smell like a wet dog dipped in my mom's tater-tot casserole The "my mom's" part of that is majorly important. Her tater-tot casserole smells like shit. The actual fecal matter kind.

"Yeah...why?" She asked timidly, making sure she kept her eyes on my face, in case my fingers went numb and let go of the towel again. At least, I think that's why she was doing it. Maybe I had something on my face, or a spider was crawling out of my hair, about to eat me, and out of pure shock she had decided not to warn me, and just stared instead. I nonchalantly ran my fingers through my hair, to make sure.

"No reason...uhh, I'm gonna go get dressed...can you wait here for a minute. I mean, you're welcome to follow me if that's what you really want, but judging by the look on your face, you just want me to shut up and go get some clothes on, while you wait out here." I rambled on and on, embarrassing myself even more.

She laughed a little, and said, "I'll just wait here." while she rubbed her left eye and yawned.

I practically sprinted to my room, so embarrassed that I didn't want to ever leave it again. I threw on an outfit that I knew clashed horribly, tried to smooth my wet hair with my fingers, and forced myself to meet Miley in the hallway.

"Uh, so I'm really sorry I keep bothering you..." She started, leaning against the wall.

"It's okay, it's not like I have anything better to do." I admitted.

"What about all those friends you were talking about on the phone?" She asked, smiling, completely back to normal. She grabbed my nose and pulled on it, which was kind of weird. I did, however, get it. the Pinnocio thing she was going for, with the nose pulling, though.

"They were...busy...eating pizza." I mumbled, sounding more and more stupid with every word.

"Aw, and you didn't get invited?" She asked, trying to look fake sympathetic.

"I'm allergic to pizza." I said, which was really really stupid, considering we'd just gone out for pizza together that week, and I hadn't died.

"Okay." She said, smiling. "So I wanted to talk to you...about something serious..." Her smile faded, and she looked more serious than I'd ever seen before.. "Ummm, I think you know what it is..." She added, at the sight of the blank look on my face. I DID know what she was talking about, by the way.

"Oh, yeah, sure." I told her. So my reaction was delayed, big deal. I'm a little slow sometimes. But only SOMETIMES.

I led her down the hall to my dad's library, where he hadn't written a good poem in like, thirty years. At the moment, he was at the public library researching. Our library's three or four books aren't of much help to him.

She walked right in like she owned the place, and sat down on dad's desk. I'd been planning on giving her the chair, but whatever. I sat in the chair instead, and watched her nervously kick her legs back and forth.

"Okay, so, I uh..." She kept rubbing her face, nervously. "Umm, so since Lilly and I aren't exactly as close as we were before I st-" She paused, and skipped what she'd been about to say "...I don't really feel right talking to her about this yet...so I wanted to tell you first..." She looked at me, expecting some sort of answer. I nodded, and she kept on going. "Ummm, you were sort of right, that time in the hospital...I know, it's amazing, isn't it?" She added, mistaking my confusion for surprise that I was right about something. "When you sort of..." She entwined her fingers, trying to decide what to say. "_implied, _that I wouldn't be able to get over this by myself...ummm...you were right...I mean, I was doing good for a while, but this week...I kind of started to...uhh..." She shoved her fingers down her throat and pretended to throw up, using motions to show me what she meant, like I was a preschooler.

"Oh...well, I was sort of mad back there, I mean, if you think you can do it yourself, I'm sure you can."

"The thing is...I don't think I can by myself...So...I had dad call the rehab place...and I'm checking in tomorrow...for like, a week or two..."

"You found one already?" I asked. "I mean, you've got me, and your dad and your brother, and Lilly...and Mike, remember Mike? Yeah, you've got all of us, we'd love to help...We could tie your hands behind your back with liccorice rope or something, if you want." I started rambling again. I might as well shoot myself. Even though the first thing you do when you die is poop your pants, it'd be less embarrassing than all the things I'll no doubt embarrass myself by doing in the near future.

"I'm sure you'd love to tie me up..." Oh god, that sounds so dirty.

"With liccorice." I added. Which made it seem even worse. I have such a dirty mind...I need to get brainwashed...

"But I think I need to get through this as quickly as I can...so I can get back to work and stuff..."

"Getting back to work would be nice...I sorta miss you, ya know, what with you only calling me like, five thousand times a day." I kidded.

"I'll be sure to bother you more." She assured me, smiling.

"You never really bother me. I enjoy it too much." I told her, smiling back.

**_Ay, It tis be time for The Soup. It tis be time for me to goeth, and watcheth the tv-eth. I'll quit with the english accent...eth_**


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**_Okay. So I really really wanna finish something before I start anything else...so I'm gonna go for this one, since it's the closest to being finished. I really don't care if people read it, or if it sucks or anything, I'm sorta giving up, I just wanna finish some stuff, so that I can move on to my better ideas._**

**_I chose this one after reading some of my newest fics. Specifically "Imagination." Considering this is really the only sort of anti-jiley besides that,(well, the only anti-jiley where Jake's alive) I was more motivated to continue this than anything else._**

**_So pray that this doesn't turn out "too" horrible, okay?_**

* * *

After Miley checked into this rehabilitation center in the suburbs, as herself, of course, the days seemed to go by really slowly.

While the rest of the world didn't know she was getting help, considering she'd secretly checked into the place as herself, and not as Hannah, the people behind the show _did _know. And they still didn't want to wait for her. They're pretty impatient. I'd hate to go fishing with them...

The producers and director had already had the first episodes of the second season written, and the writers weren't exactly wanting to rewrite anything, they decided to go on as planned, and leave Hannah's character out of the show for a while.

I'd been used to filming without Hannah for a while, considering she only showed up about twice a week throughout the first season, but weeks of nothing but Mikayla and Jake...that was horrible. They were the worst people I'd ever had the misfortune to meet, and I'm pretty sure they knew it. They kept shoving their annoying personalities in my face. I'm pretty sure they want me to commit suicide. I know Jake wouldn't want to dirty his hands to kill me himself, and hiring somebody to do it would be a waste of perfectly good facial money, in his opinion. Mikayla...She's just too obsessed with her face to come anywhere near breaking her nose. She hates Hannah more than ever, if that's possible, after she nearly did break her nose. Mikayla keeps asking me if I know when Hannah will be back. I'm pretty sure that while the rest of us are eating lunch together, being sociable and nice, or, in Jake's case, way too sociable, and really really annoying, she's been sitting in her evil lair, AKA her dressing room, writing her evil plans to kill Hannah down in her evil notebook. If you can't tell, I think Mikayla's evil.

The spawn of Satan kept bugging me about Hannah, and I kept ignoring her, which made her really really mad. She attempted to trip me nearly every time I passed her in the hallway, and she unscrewed the lid on the salt, so that the next time I used it, I ended up with about a pound of salt on my mac and cheese. Needless to say, I hated her more than ever.

Jake wasn't as annoying when it came to the Hannah situation. He was just annoying by nature. He'd asked me once if he could have Hannah's number. Claimed that he'd lost it, and wanted to ask her to return his favorite pen. I knew for a fact that Hannah didn't steal his pen. She wouldn't have wanted to touch anything that he had touched, and therefore, would've never taken his pen at all. As for him losing her number...I was pretty sure he just assumed that when she didn't answer his calls, it meant she'd changed her number, and he was just too proud to admit that he wasn't as in the loop as me when it came to other celebrities.

I'd told him that she'd had her phone disconnected, and he, being extremely gullible, believed it.

Nobody else on the cast had bother to ask me about her, for which I was extremely grateful. I'm pretty sure they were a tiny bit smarter than both Jake and Mikayla put together, and realized from watching me deny _them _information, I wouldn't tell anybody else about it.

We were wrapping up the third episode of the season when I heard from Miley for the first time since she'd come to my house weeks before, to tell me that she was going to help. Seeing as she hadn't filmed with us for a while, she unfortunately did not remember what I would be doing when she called, and we were interrupted by my phone ringing.

Barney was pretty mad, and yelled at me for about five minutes after the conversation wrapped up. Well, I think it was bout five minutes. All throughout his tirade, I'd been doing my best to ignore him.

When the phone rang, we decided to go on an early lunch break, so Miley and I spoke over potato salad and peanut butter cookies with Reese's Pieces in them.

"Where've you been?" I asked her, my mouth filled with peanut buttery goodness.

"Umm...I thought I told you." She replied.

"I know where you are, I was listening. What I meant was Why haven't you called me sooner?"

"Oh...yeah, well they're pretty strict with the rules here. They don't let you use the phone for the first month. It's more of a rule for the druggies, since they always seem to find a way for people to smuggle cocaine in here...You would not _believe_ the places people will hide that stuff."

"You're right. I probably wouldn't...So when are you getting out?"

"Actually, I'm checking out right now...They're letting me go home. I just have to do the outpatient thing."

"Oh...so when are you coming back to the show?" I lowered my voice, spotting Jake glaring at me from his corner of the table. I discerned that he'd figured out who I was talking to. That or he was constipated and thought I'd caused it somehow...

"I don't know...I might be able to come back by the finale..."

"That's a long time! You can't leave me with Jake and Mikayla for that long!" I exclaimed. Jake glared at me some more. No doubt he'd heard my outburst. He might just throw a cookie at me now. Ooooh! I'm scared.

"I'm sorry...but...well, let's put it this way. My dad has repeatedly told me that I "weigh 90 pounds soaking wet with a brick in each pocket." I don't...look right...yet."

"You look fine! Let's just slap a fat suit on you, or stuff your clothes with feathers."

"Sorry Zach, I don't need the media spreading rumors that I'm part chicken or something..."

"Fine. I'll see you later." I said, grumpily, and hung up.

After _that _conversation, Jake hated me nearly as much as Mikayla. They've been hanging out a lot more now, so I'm pretty sure they're conspiring to mug me outside the studio one of these days. I hope they're characters get killed off actually. While it'd be a sad day for my character, if his girlfriend died, it'd be a happy day for me. On second thought, It'd be pretty weird if I smiled when my character was informed his girlfriend was dead. Maybe that wouldn't be so good.

**Things That Should Happen To My TV Girlfriend**

**1. **She should get kidnapped. By Jake's Character. Then they'd both be in the middle of the desert, and I wouldn't have to deal with filming with either of them.

**2. **My character should dump her. It wouldn't be that fun, but at least it'd get rid of her.

**3. **She should become a druggie and get checked into rehab in Tahiti.

So they didn't really take much of interest in my ideas. one of the writers liked idea number three, but Barney talked him out of it. I shouldn't have said anything in front of him. Our characters will be getting married next season, now that Barney knows I don't like Mikayla.

It turned out that when you're watching every corner, expecting two teenage superstars to jump you, time goes by pretty fast. The next eight episodes went by in a flash. However, that might've been because of something. Hehe.

The day after Miley got to go home, she stopped by my house, dressed as Hannah, and drug me out to lunch with her. I hadn't had a chance to get dressed, so we ended up in a fancy restaurant wearing a faded grey t-shirt and some red shorts, but being there with her made up for it. In more ways than one.

She looked really good, after a month of rehab. She'd gained at least ten pounds. I'm not very good with estimations, but it couldn't have been much more or much less than that.

We talked for a while, and eventually, she agreed to go somewhere where people would quit staring at me. There'd probably be an article about how my house burned down and I'd lost all my clothes in the newspaper the next day after all of those people saw me, but I didn't really care. Especially after the conversation we had in a secluded part of the park. It went something like this:

Me: (Something stupid)

Hannah: (Something completely intelligent)

Me: (Something even more stupid)

Hannah: ...Ummm...Zach...I've been meaning to ask you...uhh...you know how, at that party we had together, you said that you liked me as more than a friend?

Me: Yeah. (Of course I did, she'd spit up all over the carpet, and it never seemed to dry...mom was really mad about that)

Hannah: Is it still...true?

Me: Yes.

Hannah: (Smiling) Good.

Me: (Screaming on the inside)

So yeah, she definitely implied that she liked me now. That's not much of an accomplishment, considering I've secretly been madly in love with her for months. Well, maybe that as an exaggeration, but the point is, I've liked her forever, and she just now does. Maybe patience is important. How on earth did the producers of the show get married? They probably stole their wives from an insane asylum.

I'm willing to guess that that was the reason my days were going by so fast. The seemed to zoom by, and everything kept getting better. Miley was gaining weight, and our relationhip seemed to be gaining...goodness...We'd actually gone on a date.

The producers had decided to use the finale with Hannah's character included in it. They also, get this, decided to use my drug addict idea. The writers were convinced that it would be funny, and had finally gotten Barney to agree with them. I'm pretty sure he saw how happy I was, and probably thought I'd started liking Mikayla. He was torturous like that.

Before I knew it, we were starting the filming of the second to last episode of the season. The finale was highly publicized; It'd been decided that the second season finale would be a live audience episode. They generally didn't do that with TV shows, considering the finale was supposed to be a surprise when it aired, but they figured that it would be a big money maker, to sell tickets to the first episode Hannah would be in that season. They were right, too. Tickets sold out within the hour.

Everybody was really nervous while we filmed the second to last episode, and it showed. We were there really late trying to get our lines right. Finally, it was finished, and we could go home. It was almost 11pm, so I was pretty tired, which might explain why I was so surprised when I found Hannah in my dressing room.

"Ahhh!" I yelled when I opened the door to get my stuff. She flinched in surprise, but smiled at me.

"Hey." Was all she said.

"Sorry, I didn't expect to see you in here."

"It's okay. I wanted it to be a surprise. Jake saw me when he went to use the bathroom, and I had to threaten him within an inch of his life. "

"Man, I missed _that_?" I exclaimed, disappointed to see such a scary time in Jake's life.

"I'm afraid so." She murmured as I pulled my shirt over my head and exchanged it with the one I'd come to the studio wearing.

"So how'd it go? Mess up any lines?" She asked me, picking up my comb off the table and twirling it around in her hands, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

"I wasn't the only one..." I defended myself. She laughed, and stood up.

"I think I have my lines memorized for the finale." She told me, looking at the random pictures I'd finally pinned to my buletin board, in an effort to make it look like somebody actually used the room.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, wiping my face with a towel. This was awkward. I didn't know what to say. She turned to me and mumbled,

"Uhh..."

"I don't know what to say..." I admitted.

"Me neither." She said, taking a step toward me. "So...uhh...how about I do something instead?" She said, in a questioning tone, as she reached out for me. Her hand brushed my jaw, and I just about died. I was such a girl. Why did she like me?

It took me a minute to realized that she was kissing me, and when I did, I reacted by putting my hand on her back. I couldn't think of anything else to do, okay?

After what seemed like only seconds, but in reality, was nearly an entire minute, she pulled away.

"You should change your pants. I'll see you tomorrow." She smiled at me, which kind of confused me. I wasn't exactly sure what was going on between us.

I found out though, when I showed up for the filming of the finale an hour earlier than we usually had to be there. I was shaking like a...blender. Now wait, blenders don't shake. Nevermind.

My point is, I was nervous. Majorly. In more reason than one. I had to see Hannah again, and I had to film for the first time in front of hundreds of people.

I found myself in my dressing room, getting ready in less than the silence I usually heard. The people out in the bleachers set up around the studio were extremely loud. It got pretty silent though, when Hannah showed up in my dressing room for the second time that week.

"Hey, are you ready yet?" She asked me, picking at a piece of her wig that was sticking up.

"Ummm...are _we _ready?" I asked her, not exactly answering the question she'd asked.

"What do you mean?" She asked me, her eyes narrowing.

"What's going on? Are we...okay? I mean, I wasn't exactly sure what was going on after..." She looked at me for a minute, cracking her knuckles nervously.

"How about we go to the movies after this? You and me...as you...and me." I knew that she meant herself, as Miley.

"That sounds good." I told her, smiling.

"So are you ready?" She asked again.

"I am." I told her, smiling.

Next, I found myself sitting on the couch on set, with My TV mother and father next to me, and Jake Ryan in the chair across from me. I was shoved in the corner, paying more attention to the lamp than what was going on in front of me, as I was supposed to be.

"Action!" Barney yelled, and the crowd got silent.

We sat in awkward silence for a moment, while they stared at each other, and I picked at the tag on the chord from the lamp.

"So...whats your name again?" Terry, my TV dad, asked Jake. The audience laughed for some weird reason. That wasn't even all that funny.

"Terry!" Wanda, my mother, exclaimed.

"What? She goes through boyfriends so fast, I can't remember their names." He defended. The audience laughed again.

"It's Scott." Jake told them anyway.

"Right. So what do you want?"

"Terry!" The audience laughed. Some little girl in the front was doubled over in laughter. Either that or somebody stabbed her.

"_What? _He looks guilty, I'd rather he just tell us how he's corrupted our daughter right away."

"I...uhh...Andrea and I...we've..."

"You got her pregnant!" Terry yelled at him.

"Terry!!"

"No, sir, I didn't, I swear." Jake said, a nervous look on his face.

"You gave her AIDS!" More laughing.

"Terry!"

"Quit saying my name so loud!"

"Quit embarassing me!" The audience laughed continually through this argument. It was getting kind of annoying.

"You do a good enough job by yourself." He whispered. Wanda glared at him.

"I do not!"

"They're getting married, okay? Can you just shut up and start fighting about what you're gonna wear to the wedding already?!" I yelled, acting frustrated with my parents.

"They're _what_?" The two of them exclaimed, at the same time Jake yelled,

"How do you know?"

"I'm psychic." I stated. They stared at me for nearly ten seconds. "I heard her talking about it on the phone, okay?"

"Wait a minute...why isn't Andrea here with you?" Terry asked Scott, raising an eyebrow more than a normal person generally does.

"Uhh..."

"Yeah, where is she anyway?" Wanda asked suspiciously. Scott looked terriffied.

"I uhh...I think she was..."

Just then, the door opened, and Hannah came in, nonchalantly eating a sub sandwich.

"Sorry I'm late." She announced loudly, to the entire room, in typical attention-seeking Andrea fashion.

The audience started cheering so loud, I almost went deaf. They were freaking out. A couple people even screamed. They were pathetic, but at the same time, I wanted to cheer with them.

People off camera tried to quiet the crowd down, and eventually, we could hear ourselves think again.

"Where've you been?" Wanda asked her, suspiciously.

"Yeah!" Jake exclaimed.

"I was getting something to eat." Hannah said, trying hard not to, but smiling anyway.

And the Audience Applauded.

* * *

**_Yes!! I finished something! Finally! Now I'll probably get myself started on something and be stuck with just as many fics to finish, but at least I've finished something._**

**_Now, after tomorrow, I'll have the rest of the summer to write other things and not worry about finishing this. :)_**


End file.
